Take Care Of Those Wings

Mystic has a very short story, as she died very young. That doesn't mean it's not worth telling though. Mystic was born on our vet's farm, and we bought her just after she was weaned. Being raised by her mother, she was wary of people, but that changed quickly.   We had never seen this lamb before we bought her, but had been told about her by the vet. "She's a solid black, ewe lamb, and very cute."   By the time we were able to pick her up, it was the day we were to leave for the Agricultural fair. We'd hoped she would be here before that, but it didn't work out that way. My Mom, and I had been trying to figure out a name for her, but nothing either of us could think of, sounded right to the other.    I remember that day like it were yesterday, instead of three years ago. When I walked out of the house to feed the goats and sheep, the sun was shining. It was a beautiful day, and as I stood there enjoying the feel of the sun on my face, a soft rain began to fall. The sun still shined, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was strange, and beautiful. I had never seen anything like that happen before, and haven't sense. As I stood there my mind caught on the fact that it was a mystical rain.    I didn't mention it to anyone, but right then, and there, I decided her name would be "Mystic Rain."  Mom, and I went to get her. We took the car, as Dad was doing some last minute work on the truck. I still didn't say anything about the name I'd chosen, fearing that Mom wouldn't like it. She was indeed solid black, and cute as could be. On the way home, I sat in the passenger seat holding her on my lap. When she started to struggle, I whispered in her ear. "Easy Mystic, your a good girl."     "What did you call her?" my Mom asked, and I told her "Her name is Mystic Rain."   I didn't care much if Mom liked the name or not. I'd named her, and that was that.   To my surprise, Mom had chosen a name for her too. She had taken the name from an old movie, called "The Dark Crystal.  In the movie there was a race of gentle peaceful creatures, called "Mystics." We had both chosen the name Mystic for the little black sheep neither of us had met. It fit her well. Mystic was a calm peaceful creature, who loved people. She was a yearling when she died, but she had a place in my life. Rarely does a name fit an animal so well as my Mystic. Mystic Rain!

|  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this

• #1 Comment from vseamaiden 
  7/16/08 7:08 PM | Permalink

  What a wonderful short story!