We're here in Northern Vermont for the summer. I have to say, I'm seriously having such a good time that I almost never want to leave, except for the fact that if I don't, I'll be buried under several feet of snow wearing shorts and flip flops come November.
I've come to love just about everything about our little cabin on the lake. What's not to love, other than the mosquitos?
Here are just some of our activities: swimming (and learning to swim), shopping at farms and farmer's markets for delicious fresh food, running (me), jumping on trampolines (Shnook), building decks (TSA), crawling and standing (Fuzz), gardening (me and TSA), grilling (TSA) drinking lake water (Fuzz) watching sunsets (all of us), picking blueberries and raspberries (all of us), and eating (naturally, all of us).
One thing we do weekly is visit a couple of different farms where we've gotten to know the animals. Last summer, at Shelburne Farms, Shnook became enamored of a certain Brown Swiss Cow named Jamaica. I mean who wouldn't be in love? Her name alone makes you want to kiss her, right?
All year long, Shnook talked about Jamaica. He told anyone who would listen all about her and where she lived, what she did all day, etc. I looked for a video of her on youtube, but only found another (similar) cow named Eliza. Eliza was an ok substitute for those long winter months in Los Angeles, but Shnook never forgot about Jamaica. When I saw the video of Eliza instead of Jamaica, it occurred to me that maybe we should introduce the possibility that Jamaica might not be at Shelburne Farms when we got back there. I didn't want him to get his hopes up, just in case. Every time Shnook would bring up Jamaica, I added a “Maybe we'll see her, or maybe we'll see another cow instead. Maybe another cow had a baby instead of Jamaica.”
He seemed to accept this, but nevertheless didn't let go of the hope, the need, the desire to see the real Jamaica.
A few weeks ago, it was the moment of truth. We boarded the tractor to the barn. Shnook was so excited he couldn't stop smiling. Upon exiting, TSA delicately asked a staff member if Jamaica was in the barn. He replied politely that Jamaica had gone on to “greener pastures,” and proceeded to tell us of her health problems and such that lead to her recent end.
My heart sank. While Shnook did not understand exactly what he meant, he figured out very quickly that Jamaica was no longer there. We didn't go so far as to explain death to him right now, since I recalled my sister's experience having to tell her three-year-old about death and his resulting anxiety (not a desirable subject ever, but eventually necessary). But regardless, he knew something was amiss. His demeanor changed completely and he suddenly seemed uninterested in being there. He acted out a bunch too.
He didn't bring up Jamaica for a while until we went back to the farm a week or so later. He watched quietly as Bella (Jamaica's replacement) was being led back to the sleeping barn at the end of the day. Then, about thirty minutes later as we were about to get in the car, he asked me earnestly:
“Do you think that where Bella was going, Jamaica was there too?”
Ow, ow, ow, the pains in my chest.
I tried to answer in an upbeat voice, but I was choking back my own tears. “Maybe,” I said.
Do you think I should've told him more specifically where Jamaica went? Would it have been too complicated to say “No, she's not there?” What would you have done?
Comments