Calypso Dreams

I have received many comments on this story and as a little background introduction, please allow me this small blurb. I was doodling in paint one afternoon and ended up with the pony image below. This image inspired the story you are about to read. I have been asked if this is based on real life and I must tell you the story is complete fiction. Thank you for the beautiful comments and wonderful feedback I have received on this story. When I was as young as the character is, I would have loved being her, too!

Please enjoy Calypso Dreams...

Calypso. The name was pure sugar on my tongue. The name also belonged to a shaggy little black and white Shetland pinto pony and I thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

It didn't matter to me that she was twenty-three years old. It also didn't matter to me that she liked to trot around the corral with her tongue lolling out three inches below her chin. She needed a bath, a brushing, and love. I had all of those things in spades.

I first met Calypso when I was ten years old. It was spring and flowers were blooming. Mom sent me to the library to get me out of the house. While on the way I happened to see a small, hand-painted sign which read "Old pony for sale cheap." Being the horse-crazy child I was, I had to take a look. A pony for sale sign was not to be passed up - ever!

I lived in the city. No way was I ever going to get to have my very own pony. I had to nourish my love of horses the way most children did; I lived vicariously through National Velvet, Black Beauty, Misty of Chincogteague and My Friend Flicka.

I read everything that had a picture of a horse on the cover of it. Once, I even read an old cowboy's training manual because of all the hand-drawn illustrations. Yeah, I had it bad. So bad that instead of skipping, I would gallop down the sidewalk on my way to school. Other kids would laugh and point, but I never cared. I pretended to be mounted on Man O' War, a beautiful race horse I'd read about and of course, he was the fastest there ever was!

I looked at the sign sitting in front of the pretty white house surrounded by a low hedge which was in need of trimming and took a deep breath. Dainty little pansies grew along the walk and garnering my courage, I stepped up the short path and knocked on the bright red door. Little potted ferns and ceramic frogs decorated the small, neat space but I really didn't see any of it.

As I stood there on the porch waiting for the door to open, I couldn't help but let my mind wander and dream of what it would be like to have my own pony for real. The wonder of a real live pony sent shivers through my spine. Gosh, I could go anywhere on a pony, do anything and everything.

I would ride every day (never mind that I didn't know how) and I would keep her in our back yard (it had grass and was pretty good sized) and I would keep her forever (as long as we both shall live). I had thoughts of cowboy boots and hay rides in my mind when the door opened and a white haired, grandfatherly-type man stood in front of me. With visions of long afternoon rides floating through my head, I slowly looked up at him.

"Can I help you, Missy?"

I was so nervous I almost couldn't speak. "You have a sign out front. About the," I paused, then breathed the word as if the world would stop turning if said too loud, "Pooonnnyyyy?" I hiccuped on the last syllable, loving the sound of the word on my tongue.

"Pony?" The old man looked confused for the shortest second and all my hopes and dreams went dashing to the ground. "Oh! You mean Calypso. Sure, she's around back in her shed. You go on ahead and I'll be right there."

I couldn't say a word, I was so excited and full of yearning!

Calypso.

The name was full of magic and it swam gracefully through my mind's eye. I saw colorful ribbons and fancy saddles flash through in amazing Technicolor before I bobbed my head up and down and when the door shut, I raced as fast as my legs could carry me to the gate on the side of the house.

I pushed tentatively and the rusty hinges squeaked in protest, but the gate swung open easily enough after adding the strength of my left leg as well. She must have heard my tennis shoes crunching along the overgrown graveled pathway for I heard a soft, low-calling whicker long before I caught my first glimpse of her. The sound went straight to my heart, my breath caught in my throat and suddenly there were butterfly's tickling in my stomach.

I didn't pay attention to the two white rabbits in their pen off to the right, nor did I stop to watch the dozen or so red hens as they scritched and scratched in the dirt for food. My eyes searched for one animal. I peered left and right when she slowly emerged from the shadows of a willow tree and stood before me. Tears welled up in my eyes though they didn't spill down my cheek and I stood still while I took all of her in.

She had mud caked down her legs and under her belly as well as up half of her neck - almost like she'd lain in a mud bath. Little twigs were wound up in a black tail which would probably sweep the ground when brushed out. My gaze swept then to the longest, scraggliest mane I'd ever seen. The curly black and white tendrils hung clear to Calypso's muddy knees. She nodded her head up a down, then nickered at me again, almost like she was calling my name. I floated the rest of the way to her little corral.

Her coat was long and shaggy, with bits of hay and grass and mud mixed in everywhere. Her large brown eyes looked at me speculatively, then she stuck her tongue out of her mouth and her lips made a soft clapping sound as she cupped them together over her teeth, all the while nodding her head up and down, up and down. I laughed at her with her silly tongue hanging out, then stuck mine out briefly just like her.

Her black and white coat reminded me of the Orca's we were studying in school. In between the twigs, hay, grass, mud and muck, I thought she was the most beautiful pony I'd ever laid eyes on. I reached out my hand to her muzzle and she trotted over to the shabby fencing and nuzzled my palm, tickling it with her poky whiskers. Velvety softness kissed my skin and I knew I was looking at my new best friend.

As I breathed in the scent of real, live, honest-to-goodness pony, my heart filled to overflowing with love for her. Somehow, someway, she had to become mine.

The elderly man pulled up beside me in a motorized wheelchair. I had been so enraptured with Calypso I hadn't even heard his approach.

"Well, what do you think?" He asked me. He wore an old white jacket and matching white pants and he reminded me of Preacher Samuel at our church. I stood up a little straighter.

"I think she's awful beautiful." My voice was full of yearning and as if she agreed with my statement, Calypso nodded her head again.

"She belonged to my son. His children have out grown her and I can't take care of her like she needs to, so she's for sale. But, she's got to go to a good home, not just anyone can buy our little Calypso Dancer. She's a very special pony who needs a very special owner."

I looked away from the pony for a moment and saw such a look of sadness in the man's eyes that I felt sorry for him for a minute. He looked lonely. I wondered how someone could outgrow such a pretty pony. "How much is she?" My fingers crossed and silent prayers passed my lips as I waited to hear the amount.

"Well, now. She's a pretty smart girl, Calypso is, she's trained to pull a cart, ride under saddle and pretty much will do anything in reason her rider asks of her." He scratched his head and pulled out a notebook from his shirt pocket.

My heart plummeted. A pony that could do all of those things was worth a thousand dollars at least! I looked back at Calypso and rubbed her grubby nose, knocking away some of the dried mud so that more of her soft muzzle was exposed beneath the grime. Not just a nice pony, but a smart pony, too. Wow. It was all I could do to keep praying, with thoughts of Calypso on my mind.

The pony playfully grabbed my fingers in her lips, then whinnied as the man brought out a carrot for her. He held the carrot high in the air, then said, "Take a bow, Calypso." The pony stretched out her neck to its full length, then gracefully bent back one foreleg beneath her chest, all the while lowering herself to the ground. The tips of her ears touched the soft earth then she stood up again, trotting back to the fence for her reward.

I clapped while my heart sank even further. She was a trick pony, and that meant she was worth at least a lot more than a thousand for sure! Maybe even a million.

"Well, I guess she's about twenty-five dollars to the right person. Yep, that'll about cover it, I think." He put his note pad on his lap and looked at me quietly with his head tilted to the side. He sat back down on his wheelchair, took a deep breath then smiled at me.

"Twenty-five dollars?" My mind raced. I had thirty-seven dollars and fifteen cents saved in the bank! I had been saving up my chore money for almost a whole year and I could buy her right now! But, as always, reality stepped in.

Where would I keep her? How would I pay for her food? I needed to talk to my dad and quick. Twenty-five dollars and I would have a pony! My pony. This pony. Calypso. Calypso Dancer.

I hugged the man in my excitement. His small laugh tickled in my ear, but his eyes were sparkly now, not sad.

"I have to talk to my parents first, but please don't sell her." My heart was in my throat as I said those words. Dad always told me not to beg because it wasn't ladylike but I almost couldn't help it.

"Well, now, you have them call me, Mr. Charlie." He gave me a card with his name and phone number on it. "I promise she'll be here when you call." He slid another carrot through the fence to Calypso then turned his wheelchair back toward the house.

With one final longing look at the pony, I said goodbye to Mr. Charlie then ran home as fast as my ten year old legs could carry me. I was having Calypso dreams. The possibilities were never-ending!

Every possible reason for not being allowed to buy her popped into my head and I came up with every possible solution to counter them. I would get straight A's in school. I would keep my room clean. I wouldn't fight with my brothers anymore. I wouldn't even fuss in Sunday School! I would eat all my vegetables-even the green ones-if only I could buy my pony.

I had already begun to think of her as mine. We were already connected in our hearts, she and I. I pictured her with streaming ribbons in her mane and tail, riding in a parade down Main Street and winning a trophy because she was so smart. I thought to myself, other kids would pay to have their pictures taken on her! I could earn money to feed her and everything! We could put on little shows, like in the circus and travel around the neighborhoods meeting all the other kids.

If only...

Mom and Dad sat across from me at the dinner table looking at the dirty three by five card laying on the middle of it. I could hear my heart pounding loud in my ears. I was so nervous I took little, shallow breaths to calm myself. The word "Please" repeated itself over and over in my head.

The name, Charlie Pitt and a phone number, with the amount of twenty-five dollars were written on the card. Mom and Dad passed it back and forth between them. They were discussing my future and I had almost no say in it. Dad would say something and Mom would shake her head no, then yes. Then she would say something and he would do the same. I kept quiet and didn't fiddle in the chair for once; this was the single-most important minute in all my life.

"A pony is a big responsibility, Jemma. How did you plan on taking care of her?" Dad asked lots of questions and I gave lots of answers - even some I hadn't practiced giving!

"Ponies cost a lot of money, Jemma. Are you sure you can keep her fed and taken care of the right way? What happens when she gets sick? Ponies get sick, too, you know." Mom was a nurse and she always worried about everything getting sick.

I had an answer for everything. I would work extra chores, I would help Mom after school and I would give up Halloween and Christmas if that would help make up their minds. Finally, Dad said he would call Mr. Charlie and we would all go over and see Calypso in the morning. Todd and Matthew, my older brothers, pretended they weren't interested, but they ended up going with us the next day anyway.

When the boys saw Calypso, they pointed at her and started to laugh at how filthy she was, but Mom shushed them up before Mr. Charlie could hear them. They were chasing the chickens around then, when Mr. Charlie came out on his wheelchair, Dad sent them back to the car to wait, because they were being disrespectful.

Mom and Dad and Mr. Charlie talked for a long time while I patted and cooed to Calypso. I murmured promises to her about how pretty she was going to be once she had a bath and lots of brushing. She stood still for me while the adults talked, like she understood every word I said.

I picked out some of the twigs in her tangled up tail and used them to scratch behind her ear, which she really liked. I also had time to work on one of the long tangled braids in her mane. Once I figured out there were filthy strings tied in them, the braiding came out easily enough. Her long mane was pretty and wavy when I'd finished my task. I stood next to her with my arm over her back, just breathing in her scent. I was in Heaven.

When Mom and Dad finished talking, Mr. Charlie waved at me as he rode his wheelchair back onto his ramp and inside his pretty white house. As I looked expectantly at my parents, I tried not to hold my breath as they walked over to me and Calypso. She looked better now the twigs and some of the tangles were removed. I stood as tall as I could next to her, waiting, hoping, praying.

"Okay, Jemma." Dad said.

That was all I heard. Whatever else my parents said to me that day I never knew, my heart pounded so loud in my ears. I don't know how I stayed conscious! I wanted to scream, I think I actually did, then I gave my pony a hug, left her little area and gave a hug and kiss to each of my parents. She was mine! I was hers, we belonged to each other!

I look back on that day with such warm memories. Those days were better than fresh gingerbread cookies on a cold day. I spent many happy afternoons with my little Calypso Dancer. My parents rented a stall at the local stables for her and I took riding lesson's there as well. We would go on long afternoon jaunts on bridal paths which went through the park system in my town and we made many friends along the way. Picnic lunches, shared with Calypso were always the best tasting food I'd ever eaten.

I don't know what my parents paid out for everything that spring all those many years ago, but the four years I spent with Calypso before she passed away were the best ones of my childhood. She taught me responsibility and so much more. I never grumbled about having to clean out her stall or going out on rainy days to feed her and she never failed to nuzzle up or call out to me.

We never won any ribbons nor rode in any parades. We never even entered any pony clubs. We were famous around our neighborhood and Calypso was always willing to give the little kids a ride. They loved her tricks and she loved their carrots. We went to visit Mr. Charlie often and he wasn't quite so lonely anymore. But we were best friends, Calypso and I, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. She really was a very special pony.

~end~

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