Jejo

                                                        Jejo

The trees swayed with gentle ease one bright Sunday morn. No church did we go to. The closest one was a days journey away. Instead, Papa read us from the Bible and played songs on his guitar. Mama always makes delicious meals for Sunday. She makes them the day before, as to not work on the Lord’s day. It is usually soup because it is the easiest to keep ‘til the morrow.
         Billy and I go out and tend the sheep before supper. Our sheep are pretty easy to watch, except for Billy’s favorite, Jejo. That sheep has as much brains as a log. She is adventures though. She always wants to know where that cliff goes...
         Billy is laying next to me, petting Jejo as he watches the other sheep.
         “Why do you like that dumb sheep so much,” I ask Billy.
         “Cause she doesn’t follow all the other sheep; she’s the one leading them. She makes her own way.” My brother doesn’t want to stay here in our little log cabin in Switzerland. He wants to make a name for himself. He’s saving up his money for a plane ticket to the Americas.
         “Yeah, she makes her own way down the cliff,” I respond sarcastically.
         “At least she’s brave enough to find out what’s out there.”
         “She leads all the other sheep down the cliff with her!”
         “She’s a natural born leader. Her followers will go anywhere she does.” Billy looks up at the mountain that stands gallantly into the clouds. “If she went to climb that mountain over there, all the other sheep would follow her.”
         “Of course they would, their sheep! If we didn’t make sure they don’t get hurt, they’d all jump off that mountain!”
         I look at Billy and notice something is missing. “Billy, where’s Jejo?” He looks frantically around. He looks up at me and says, “Oh no.”
         “Jejo!” I call out looking among the other sheep.
         “There,” Billy says pointing at some sheep.
         “Billy, none of those are Jejo. Can’t you tell apart your favorite from the rest?” I scold. He ignores my comment.
         “All those sheep are headed in that direction,” He explains as he points into the forest. “If we follow them, we’ll find Jejo.” I don’t say anything. Papa always says that “it’s better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” He said that a wise man with a tall hat told him that.
         Billy and I run into the woods where the other sheep are going.
         We come out at a clearing where Jejo is grazing on lush green grass. She looks up at us, and I think she’s smiling in her own sheepish way. I put my hands on my hips and say, “Well I’ll be, she’s smart after all.”
         “She was just leading her herd to greener pastures,” Billy says.
         “Her herd, huh? Since when did it become her herd?”
         “Since she lead them into the promise land.”