Life Was... Good

June 30th, 1742, Georgia.

          It was yet another hot and humid day on the farm. Cyrus had just finished watering the crops while his son, Nathaniel, cleaned his room. It was about 6:30 PM, so Cyrus and Nathaniel already had dinner. Cyrus looked towards the house, where he saw Ranger, the big, brown Maltese, sitting on the front steps leading up to the porch. Nathaniel still wasn’t outside, which was a shame, considering Cyrus needed help chopping wood in preparation for winter; at least Nathaniel was cleaning his room. Cyrus whistled, signaling for Ranger to follow him, to which Ranger immediately responded and trotted over to him at a semi-fast pace, the wind ruffling his medium-length fur, making it look like he was struck by lightning. The moment Ranger approached Cyrus, Cyrus patted his head. They started walking towards the small, clear section of the woods that Cyrus and Nathaniel had claimed to be their spot to chop wood.  Ranger was following behind him; his pace matching with Cyrus’.

         It took less than two hours of chopping wood for Cyrus to have a big, dense bundle of wood ready to take back to the house; so, he picked up his makeshift crate that he used to transport wood from the forest to his home. The crate had a handlebar wrapped in the soft leather Cyrus made from the pelt of a deer he had hunted a few months before. The leather was around the handlebar to make sure Cyrus or Nathaniel, whoever was carrying the wood, were able to transport the wood back and forth comfortably. When Cyrus took hold of the handlebar, he began to walk back over to the house with a hastened pace.

         When he reached the house, he put the crate down against the side of the house and took the logs out, placing them in an organized pile next to the crate. Once he finished that, he walked inside the house and immediately headed to Nathaniel's room, wanting to make sure his son had cleaned his room. He entered his son's room, which was slightly brightened from the setting sun outside, and low and behold, it was clean. Nathaniel was sitting on his bed reading a book. He knew his dad entered the room, but he just had to finish the last sentence. Cyrus leaned against the wooden door frame and watched as his son finished the page, put a bookmark to make sure he didn’t lose his spot, and put the book down on top of the wooden nightstand next to him. He looked up at his father, waiting for him to begin the conversation.

          “That was quick,” Cyrus chuckled as he looked over at Nathaniel. “How did you clean it up that fast? There was quite a bit of work to be done.” Cyrus glanced around the room before looking back at Nathaniel, waiting for what he would say next.” Nathaniel looked at his dad and smiled, glad that his father was seemingly proud of him for how fast he tidied his room.

           “It wasn’t too hard once I knew what I was doing and focused,” Nathaniel said with a smile, a smug glow of self-congratulation on his face. Cyrus chuckled softly and nodded as he listened to his son speak. Cyrus glanced down at his pocket watch and took note of the time.

           “It’s 8:30, Nathan, it’s almost time for bed. Get your pajamas on and come say goodnight when you’re done.” Cyrus tapped the wooden door frame a few times - signaling he was walking out, and closed the door to his son's room as he left.

            The moment his dad walked out, Nathaniel stood up from his bed and walked over to his dresser, picking out a comfortable set of pajamas that his dad had bought him the month before. It was a nice two-piece pajama set, they were red and had a flannel texture to them. He slipped the pants on and put the shirt on, buttoning it quickly. Once he was finished, he walked over to his nightstand and blew out the candle inside his lamp. After that, he immediately walked out of his room and started walking towards his dad's bedroom.

             He walked in and his dad was sitting upright in his bed reading, “An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews,” giggling at the words on the page. Nathaniel knocked on his open door, indicating that he was in the room. Cyrus looked up at Nathan and set his book down on the nightstand.

             “Goodnight, Nathan,” Cyrus smiled as he opened his arms wide, gesturing for a hug. Nathan walked over to his dad and hugged him tightly.

             “Goodnight, Dad,” Nathan said. Nathaniel looked at the book on his dad's nightstand and looked at his dad questioningly. “What’s that one?” He asked curiously. Cyrus glanced at the book, then back to his son.

              “Remember Henry Fielding? The author I told you about?” Cyrus looks at his son. Nathan nodded, to which Cyrus picked up the book and handed it to him. “Well, I was finally able to snag a copy of “An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews.” I was so excited to get it when it first came out, but I couldn’t find it anywhere!” Cyrus said with a smile. Nathan nodded.

              “I’m glad you finally found it.” Nathan looked at his dad and was about to speak again when Ranger sauntered into the room, his tail wagging. Cyrus chuckled softly, looked at Ranger, and pointed at the dog bed next to his own. Ranger knew this meant it was time to lay down, so he trotted over and laid down; his chocolate-brown fur spreading out on his bed like watercolor paint onto a canvas. Nathan looked down at Ranger and walked over to him. He crouched down and smiled as he stroked his silky fur before speaking.

               “Goodnight to you as well, Ranger,” Nathan said quietly, smiling at his beloved dog. Nathan still had the book his dad was reading in his other hand, so he stood up, took a step toward his dad, and set the book down on the nightstand next to him.

               “Goodnight again, Dad.” Nathan smiled.

               “Night, Nathan,” Cyrus responded, eager to get some sleep.

                After that, Nathan walked back to his room, just as eager as his dad to get some sleep. He laid down, rested his head on his feather pillow, and fell asleep. The night was quiet, the only noise was from the occasional hoot of an owl or chirp of a cricket outside, but other than that, it was incredibly peaceful, just like usual. Life was good.