My very best friend, Sara, came over on my birthday to bring me lunch and to visit the farm. Sara and I have been best friend since we were 11 years old. She is the other half of "the goat girls", as her dad used to call us. We both had goats and were in 4H. Living fairly close to each other we spent a lot of time running back and forth with goats at our heels.
Oh we had fun. Especially this time of year when our parents would drop us off at the fairs and pick us up 10 hours later. Can you imagine doing that today?
Oh we were trouble. Sara looking all innocent but usually coming up with the ideas...and the means.
So when Sara came out the other day we were full of "remember when" stories. She reminded me, when she saw the llama, of the man at the fair that sold chain-link fences and had a pen set up with a llama in it. He use to let us walk the llama around the fair for him. A llama 40 years ago was a major attraction and we got a lot of attention. I'd forgotten about that.
Her daughter brought up one of her favorite stories of her mom and me growing up. It is very bitter-sweet when I look back on it now.
I grew up with ponies and horses but Sara didn't. She had the room all right and a nice barn but her dad would never get her a pony. So when it came time for me to sell my first pony, Sara really wanted it but her dad wouldn't buy it. He offered to trade my dad an old...and I mean old Lafayette car for the pony. My dad came over to look at it while Sara and I kept our fingers crossed.
But my dad said no.
Sara was very disappointed. I was disappointed. I wanted my dad to just give her the pony but noooooooooooo.
A few days went by and Sara and I were going to paint a sign to advertise the pony. I had found an arrow shaped piece of plywood, left over from my brother's attempt to build a hydroplane, that would make a perfect sign.
I asked Sara to paint the letters since she has beautiful handwriting. I told her to write "Pony For Sale"
As she got busy painting the sign I went about my business of cleaning out the goat stall.
Sensing she was done I walked over as she whipped it around to show me her handiwork.
"PONY FOR SARA" the sign read.
Deep in thought she had written what was in her heart, not her head.
We laughed until we cried.