Calf talk

My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,

Never in my life have I spent much time thinking about cows...or even very many other animals, for that matter. This morning is different.

I've a friend who runs a farm, and she and her husband have been anxiously awaiting the birth of some calves. They arrived yesterday and it was a pretty joyous occasion for them, especially considering the fact that they're unable to have children of their own. They all came along beautifully and seemed very healthy...

...except for one.

She wouldn't stand up like the others. She just stayed there, sprawled out on the ground. They took an extraordinary number of photos of the whole ordeal, some of which I received via email. "Eh, a bunch of calves and whatnot," I thought, as I scrolled through about 20 pictures. Then the story of The One Who Wouldn't Stand was laid out before me, complete with pictures.

My heart melted.

It was the most beautiful calf I've ever seen. Had her story not been relayed to me and if there hadn't been any photos of her lying there on a stack ofcomfortable-looking blankets, I don't think I'd have thought an awful lot about it.

That story...the sweet, innocent, and almost scared look on the poor girl's face...it was all too much. She looked so helpless and pitiful, but simultaneously wide-eyed and inquisitive. It was such a tough thing to see. When I read further and found out that she didn't make it, everything within me sank and the urge to weep was strong. So incredibly sad. She only lived about 9 hours and I hope that they were pleasant and peaceful hours without an ounce of suffering. Poor, poor thing.

Abundant apologies for the grey tone of this letter, my dear.

May the grace of He keep you always,

J.O. Morris