My Grandmother’s Story

 




"Of a time long ago, I remember  so well.
 I’ve kept it a secret, but for you I will tell”
  That’s how the story began, as did all my grandmother’s stories. On this however she told with a kind of urgent conviction, as if she needed me to truly believe.
  She was your typical grandmother, you know baking, bed making, gardening, that sort of thing. But when it came to story telling none were better. Little did I know that the times we spent together would later be my most cherished memories.
  As usual I fought against sleep but with my grandmother’s calm voice to distract me and little else it was a battle already lost. Rocking slowly back and fourth I watched her and her shadow keep time with the rhythm of her tale. She never read from any book, instead the things she told could only be found in dreams. And it was in my dreams I put them back.
  The bed felt a little softer when ever she made it up for me and my midnight snack of cookies and milk became sweeter with her touch. To this day nothing ever tasted or felt as good. I lay there in the warm embrace of my bed and comforting sounds of that sweet old lady. In a voice cracked with age she continued.
“Out past the town, beyond the meadows and trees
To a place known only by birds and small bumble bees.
Where flowers make colors bright as a rainbow
And perfumes the air when the wind gently blows.
The breeze was also filled with the songs of the birds
In a chorus they sang with high chirping words.
Moss covered the trees as they reached for the sky
That was bluer than blue with clouds drifting by.
To a pond ran a stream with frogs leaping near
Its cool water refreshed the fox and the deer.
It was this place I had found, one day on my own
So far back into the woods, so far from my home.
I followed a path made by squirrel’s tiny feet
Along I found berries that were juicy and sweet.
Only once did I stop to have a good laugh
As I watched a slow moving turtle cross over my path.
Then off I went with a pace that was quick
While tapping the ground with my walking stick.
Finally I grew tired so I decided to stop
I glimpsed the small jump of a rabbits scared hop.
But what flew off his back was the strangest of things
For lying on the ground was a fairy with a bent wing.
Cautiously I crept to where she still lay
“Are you all right?” Was all I could say.
With a tear in her eye caused by her wing’s hurt
She brushed off grass leaves and pieces of dirt.
And then in song she spoke softly to me
While I towered over her as tall as a tree.
“ I beg you, please, I need your help”
Her pain and fear I suddenly felt.”
  Interrupting my grandmother I tiredly asked, “What did you do grand mom?” Slowly she leaned in close and tucked the blanket tightly around me. As if I were in her arms, I felt my body melt into the soft blankets hug. This was the kind of magic that only a grandmother can make. She eased herself back and with a faint smile she continued.
“I told the little fairy, “Don’t go any where,”
As I gathered two leaves and the bow from my hair.
I placed her bent wing between the two leaves
They were held with my bow, the fairy was pleased.
For the rest of the day, together we played
But the shadows grew long as light started to fade.
“How do I get home?” I said with a tear
In my voice the fairy heard the sound of my fear.
“Hold me close,” the fairy said, “You’ll see with my glow,”
“I’ll light up the path making it easy to follow”
Before long I was home but it was dark and late
Through the window I saw mother nervously wait.
Back in my hair returned the ribbon bow tie
No longer needed, the fairy now able to fly.
I entered my home, my mother happy and mad
Gone were the small fairy and the fun that we had.
My mothers replied to what happened that day
“Just forget you ever saw it, it’s better that way.”
  Gathering the last of my waking energy I asked, “Why did she say that, grand mom?” Exhausted and shaky she answered, “I scared her so bad when I came home so late.” With a sigh and a pause she said in a sad low voice, “ My dear, it’s a scare only a parent can feel.” I barely heard the words when sleep finally took me.
  I remember waking to my mother lying close to me. Her eyes red and swollen betraying the smile she desperately tried to make. I remember the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she spoke of a better place and how happy grand mom now was. But most of all I remember every thing my grand mother said. I tell her tales now to my grand child from notes I made to better remember. And as each is read I save the place I left off with a ribbon once worn in my grand mother’s hair.