BlackSmith

1

When i was born, my father cried. He cried for days, and though i didnt know why, i found that crying was a way to connect with him, and so i often found myself crying too.
I found myself with my Nan often, when Father and Gee (my Grandpa, but i called him Gee as his real name was Gordon, and this was what Nan referred to him as) though if i ever called Nan by her real name - Teresa - i would probably have gotten a slap.
Nan was very old fashioned, father would say, and it was good to let me understand how lucky i was.
But i dont think father thought of me as lucky. He called me Sparrow, after my mothers favourite bird. He had told Gee he didnt believe in calling girls things like Susan or Georgia, and he'd much prefer my name to have meaning. And though Sparrow wasnt immensly abstract, it gave enough of a point to be different.
Gee told father to re-marry a new woman and continue the generation, because Gee wanted a grandson and i think Father wanted a son too. I could never be a farrier and that would mean the business was dead, unless father married another woman and had a son. I didnt know what would happen to me if that was the case; though any more time with Nan would be a step closer to hell.
Father had only once tried to fall in love again, but i was eight, old enough to make her life a living hell. She hadnt lasted long. I knew father's struggle, but any male sibling would instsntly fall above me in the pecking order. And as my one chance to prove myself, i got rid of Caroline faster than i sheared sheep, which was, may i say, impeccably fast.
When i was 12, Nan died. And father had no one to look after me but the farm animals. So he took me with him when he worked, where the carriage horses drove past and Father hastily checked their shoes and fitted news when needed. I was never allowed to help, instead i coaxed the horses and fed them fresh hay or haylage, soaking hay for drivers who wanted soaked hay and mixing up sugarbeet for the next day for a sweeter taste during the winter months.
They tipped me, on occasion, in which i bought hot chocolate and new jeans when i started to go up more often. And soon i came up everyday, and Father became more and more inquisitive of how i coaxed the horses into standing so silently.
Gee said it was wrong for girls to be working in such conditions. And though he defended me, i knew he couldn't disagree, none of my friends ever worked; which was a hot topic at school. But Father kept taking me, and i kept working.
I had told my best friend, Ella, that i wanted to a farrier and she had laughed, told me that was for boys. That i should aim to be a seamstress at the local clothes shop.
At my request, Father had tried enrolling me in such activities, in which i showed up in my favourite jeans, whereas others had shown up in classic dresses, the wear to such job. Madame Victoria said it wasnt reccommended that i return, as i was "not suited" to that sort of work. I had cried, much like Father had when i was first born.
"Sparrow," he had said "you are much different from all the darling girls, you are stronger and more passionate." And then he had told me that i was to start as a farrier with him, to observe the horses feet while he heated the shoes, and to oil hooves to protect them from chipping.

I finally had found my place, and i had never been so happy.