Gabrielle’s Magical Notebook

(We have seen this man before. He began to tell us his thoughts at twilight. I suppose that makes this something of a sequel)

“What am I doing out here?”

I stumble through the snow a full minute before I realize I asked my question out loud. Out of habit I look around to see who’s noticed me talking to myself, but the gesture is meaningless. There’s no one out here on plains, but me. Well, no one in ear shot, anyway.

The snow swirls up around me, over my head and into my eyes. I rub my hands together in the time honored defense against the bitter cold and try to remember what warmth felt like. While I’m at it I remember a hot cup of coffee and my comfy chair. I might as well remember up a pile of gold for all the good it does me. I shake my head and keep walking.

As I walk I glance around at what little I can see. The wind must have sent out scouts or something because it obviously knows it won’t find anything to stop it out here on the prairie so it came out in force. It picks the snow off the ground and tosses it into the air again and again until it’s impossible to see ten feet away in all directions. I have no idea where I’m going, but I have a heading and I plan to follow it until I get there or fall down trying.

Tenacious. It’s a good word I read once. I’d like to think it applies to me, but it’s just a bit too high-minded for the likes of me. Bull-headed or stubborn are more like it. They amount to the same thing which is the only thing that has me moving forward in this snow blasted wasteland.

See, there’s no point in asking my question again whether out loud or quietly. I know exactly why I’m here, what dragged me out of my home and my city to wander on the flatlands where the wind holds its court and what keeps me here when any sane man would be hiding behind sturdy walls. There’s someone else out here in this snow and she needs me. Ask me how I know this and I couldn’t tell you. But I’ve never been wrong so far no matter how often I wish I was.

A little girl went missing tonight, though I don’t know if it counts as missing if no one but me cares that’s she’s gone. I don’t know what chased her from her house, but it must have been bad to send her out on a night like this. Her fear, cold and despair reverberate in my head like bass turned up high. She’s out here somewhere and I plan on finding her and keeping her safe tonight. What I do after that is a big blank, but I’ll figure it out then. First I have to find her.

The only problem is I know the plains like I can play classical violin. Saying I’m out of my depth is like saying it’s flat and chilly here- an understatement of mammoth proportions. My city and I have come to an understanding, but these plains aren’t telling me anything. They just stare back at me like a room full of kids when the clown’s act is falling flat. All I have to work with is a vague buzz in my head that seems to pull to the right.

If I didn’t know any better I’d say it’s actually getting colder. Five minutes ago I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. I would have sworn in court that it was as cold as it could get. And with as little feeling as I’ve got left I really shouldn’t be able to notice any difference. But it is noticeably colder and the wind has started to howl. I can feel the girl’s buzz in my head get weaker. Faster, I need to move faster.

The tree strikes with no warning. One minute I’m moving at a staggering trot with absolutely no visibility and the next I’m flat on my back with a pain in my head like I’d run into a wall. It’s silly to give emotions to trees, but this one looks real proud of itself. I lie at its feet and wait for my head to stop spinning. And then I wait for some energy so I can get up. And then I notice how soft the snow is and nice it feels to lie down. It’s almost warm here. I could just rest for minute…

Pain shocks me awake. A heat just on the verge of burning my numb skin radiates out from my chest flowing along my limbs and burning the cold and sleep away. I feel like I just stuck a screwdriver in an outlet. And either the shock or the cold is messing with me because I hear a voice in my head when I know for sure there’s no one around.

The voice is deep like my dad’s, but carries more affection than I ever heard in his. For an instant my fevered brain imagines the smell of bacon cooking which is the only good thing my old man ever did for me. The voice says, “She is mine, son and she is hurting. Go get her. Go make her safe.” And then I’m on my feet moving forward through the snow.

I find her on the other side of the tree. I tuck all the embarrassment of almost freezing to death just a few feet from the girl I’d come out to save into a closet and promise myself I’ll stew on it later. She’s curled up in a ball about the size of a lost puppy and so cold her body’s given up on shivering. Just a still ball of blond hair, snow and pink sweater. Looks like she hadn’t even had time to grab her coat. I open mine and tuck her inside. All this heat coming off my chest should be good for something other than keeping me moving. She weighs nothing in my arms and as I start back to my car I feel like I could carry her forever if I need to.

There’s still the question of what to do with her after she warms up, but I figure all the thinking can wait. I’m more a man of action myself. She’s safe now and I can feel deep in my bones that I’d give all my years to keep her that way. I settle her in my arms and turn my face to the wind. Time to go home.

As I head back to my car and my city I can feel a new warmth in my chest. I did good tonight.

“Yes, son,” I hear. “Well done.”

(This is the story I told for the our annual Night of the Burning Plum.)

Once upon a time, not so long ago and not so far away, a plum fell from Heaven down to Earth. As he passed through our atmosphere he caught fire and then fell into the middle of a hard, cold road. He picked himself up and brushed himself off and set off down the road seeking some shelter from the darkness and the cold.

It wasn’t long before he came upon a mighty fortress. The walls were tall and the moat was broad. He called across the water to the watchman.

“Please, sir,” he said, “I am so cold and I am so tired. May I come in and rest within your walls?”

“No,” the watchman replied. “We don’t let anyone in. We stand behind our walls and keep everything out. The world is dangerous and we don’t let it come in here.”

The plum looked at the fortress and he saw what he hadn’t before. He saw the walls were lined with armed men whose eyes were cold. The moat was full of piranahs and crocodiles to kill any who tried to enter. So he turned away and went back into the cold.

He travelled for some time along the road when he came to a palace. Its spires glistened in the sunlight and what he could see of its gardens were beautiful. He went to the gatekeeper and asked to be let in.

“Please,” he said. “It is so dark out here and I am so weary of wandering. May I come in and rest in your sunlight?”

“You may come in,” the gatekeeper said. “But I doubt you want to. There is a new king on the throne and the passageways are all full of treachery and deceit.”

The plum looked at the palace shining in the sun and he saw what he had not before. He saw the assasins lurking in the shadows and the poison at the bottom of every cup of wine. So he turned his back in despair and traveled on in the dark.

Night had fallen like a lampshade when he came to a crossroads. At the crossroads was a house that was simple and plain, but warm light shone from every window and he heard laughter from inside. He knocked on the door which opened by a woman in simple garb.

“Please, madam,” the plum said. “May I come in? It is so cold and so dark out here on this road. May I come in and sit by your fire and listen to your talk?”

“Of course,” the woman said.

She showed the plum into the house where the family Blessed and the family Laughter were feasting together. The plum sat and he listened to their talk and he felt their warmth and he wondered at it.

“I don’t understand,” he said to them. “How can you feast in this simple house? And how can you laugh so loudly? It is dark and it is cold outside. There is fear and treachery throughout the world and your house sits at a crossroads. How can you sit so happily?”

“Yes,” they answered him, “We sit at a crossroads in a dark world. But the Father of Lights has given us each other. So we laugh together and we feast together and we pray the darkness back to hell.”

“Please,” the plum begged, “May I stay?”

“Or course,” they said.

So he stayed with them and their laughter made him burn bright and warm. He warmed their house for them even when the fuel was expensive and he added light to every meal no matter how meager the food. And together they sat at the crossroads in the dark, cold world.

The trees dropped their leaves onto me as I walked in the forest on a perfect autumn day. The sky was the shade of blue I dream in and the air was crisp like a fresh apple. I skipped through the fallen leaves listening to the woosh and swish and crinkle. The trees seemed to dance with me in the breeze. I danced through the woods like a singer in front of her chorus.

My skipping feet took me into the center of a clearing where a single tree stood. She was glorious, a tree I wanted to bring my children to and that I would tell my grandchildren of in years to come. She stood like a bridge between Heaven and Earth, solid as a mountain and graceful as a river. All around her feet were leaves all the colors of autumn. I skipped through her leaves until I was directly beneath her branches.

“How do you do this day, sister?” I asked in the quick way of people.

She answered me after a time in the thoughtful way of trees.

“I fear I’m dying, sister. Most of my leaves have fallen and the wind tells me there is a storm coming that will carry off the rest. Soon I shall be all bare branches and bare bones.”

“Surely you are not dying,”I said. “It is only autumn.”

The tree stirred in the wind.

“I know it is autumn,” she said. “But as each leaf falls I wonder if I will have strength enough to regrow it come spring. Enjoy my leaves, little one; this could be my last year to give them to you.”

I put my hand on the tree’s trunk. Her bark was rough, scratchy, like my mother’s hands. She was magnificent, this tree was. She had stood longer than most houses around these parts and I’d always thought she’d stand forever.

The wind blew against my face and chilled me where my tears lay. The wind blew through her branches and brought more leaves down to me.

“Now, sister, do not cry”, the tree said to me. “I will rest this winter and perhaps I will wake in the spring. If I do not wake then I am just resting, only resting. Do not cry, little one.”

I rested my forehead against her rough bark and breathed in her scent. No other tree has ever smelled like her. I drew in her scent and promised myself I would remember it always. Then I straightened and gently stroked her bark.

“Rest well, sister,” I said. “If the Maker wills I shall see you in the spring. If not, sleep hard and deep and I will see you when the winter is gone forever.”

I tucked a leaf into my pocket and walked away through the falling leaves.

Two creatures face each other across a field. The field is scarred and ruined from many battles and the creatures hold their weapons with ease and familiarity. They have been here before. They have fought this battle many times already. They plan to fight it many times again. The stakes are too high for either to back down.

The creatures are as different as it is possible to be. The one is all brightness and beauty, but in the way a sword is bright and beautiful. It is lovely and dangerous. The other creature is ugliness itself like a human sacrifice under the new moon. It is like a black mirror held up to suffering and pain. They stand at the ready waiting for the call to attack.

Lilah was just having a bad day. It was one of those days that made her wish she could go back to bed and start over. She’d burned the oatmeal and then hadn’t remembered to cool the baby’s before she fed him. While she comforted him Dorothy spilled milk on the floor while Nathaniel and Jesse fought over the brown sugar. She could feel her tight grip on her temper begin to slip as the bickering and wails ate into her tired mind. She took a deep breath and turned to speak to her sons.

The creatures spring from their sides like arrows shot in rage. Bright sword meets dark blade with a scream as the creatures fight for the field. The Bright One knows that he must hold the field. There is too much that is precious behind him to let the Darkness through. The Dark One hisses and shrieks as his attacks are met and returned.

The boys were clearing the table while Lilah washed the baby. He always managed to get so much food on his face and hands and somehow he got oatmeal down his back. Lilah was just deciding that she should just get him a whole new outfit when she heard a crash from the dining room. She ran into the room and couldn’t believe her eyes. One of the boys had dropped the entire stack of bowls, some of them half full of oatmeal and milk. There was glass and breakfast everywhere. She stared at the mess on the floor with the baby on her hip and frustration buzzing in her mind.

The Bright One yells in pain as a Dark attack blows beneath his defenses into his side. The Darkness chuckles. It was a filthy chuckle, like someone laughing at a beaten child. It is a thing of such ugliness that it stains the air that made it. The Bright One hears the chuckle. His eyes light with fire and he throws himself into a furious attack, pushing the Darkness back. Behind them a drop of blood sparkles on the ground.

Lilah stared at the mess and felt her defenses start to unravel. She handed the baby to Dorothy and lifted Nathaniel across the glass. She put him down out of the room and went back for Jesse. She reached for him, but he was looking at something else and took a step away from her. She lost her balance and took a step forward right onto a shard of glass. Sharp pain shot up her foot and she grabbed at a chair to get her weight off of the glass in her foot. She manuevered herself into the chair and gasped in pain. She looked up and stared right into Jesse’s eyes.

This was the moment. If the Bright One lost this moment then the day was lost. He fights for the life behind him, for the fragile new growth and for love for the beloved he protects. His sword batters at his enemy’s defenses and he thinks he sees fear in the other’s eyes. The Darkness fights for fun and ruin. He doesn’t care about the beloved. He is here to see the life sullied and the possibilities broken beyond repair. He, too, feels the promise of this moment. His sword sucks in light as he answers the Bright One stroke for stroke.

Lilah stared into her son’s eyes and knew that she needed to say something.

The creatures are moving so fast now that it is impossible to follow their motions.

Lilah looked hard at Jesse’s face and saw remorse and sadness. He looked away from her and down at her foot. Lilah opened her mouth to speak.

The Bright One forces the Darkness down to his knees.

“Dorothy, please put the baby in his crib and bring me the broom. Nathaniel, Jesse, let’s see if we can get this cleaned up before lunch time.”

The bright sword flashes as it cuts the foul head from the monster’s shoulders.

With the help of her children Lilah cleaned the glass up and Nathaniel and Jesse volunteered to mop for her. She got the glass out of her foot and decided to make a cup of tea. She felt exhausted and it was barely after breakfast. She almost felt like she’d been in a fight or something.

The Bright One turns from the dead creature and limps across the field to what he’d been commanded to protect. He stands under the tree and sees that the beloved is about to bloom. He smiles at her beauty and then walks back to the field. There would be more battles to come and the beloved must be defended. So he cleans his sword and takes his place with the tree at his back and the battlefield before him.

I found a flower on the sidewalk this morning. It was purple, gold and green and shaped like a champagne goblet with no stem. I looked around for the plant this flower had come from, but there was only green around me and no purple. I stared deep into the heart of the flower and listened to its dreams.

This flower wanted to fly. It spent all its short days dreaming of the sky. I could understand that so well. Often I wished I could fly away. I’d come back, of course; it’s not that I wish I could run away. I just wish I could fly. I would be weightless in the air. I would swim through the sky, climbing until the world became a patchwork quilt made by the hands of God. I would tumble over and over and catch myself just before I fell. I stared into the heart of the flower and wished we could fly together this flower and I.

But I had someplace to be. I couldn’t just cast the flower back to ground where I’d found it and if it came with me we would just remind each other that we were still tied to the ground. So I tucked it into the hedge next to me where it could see the cars and people go by and I went on my way. I left the flower and my dreams behind me as I went.

I passed by that way again just a few days later. The flower was still in its place, so pretty against the hedge leaves. Now the flower was shaped like a shy goblet, all closed around itself. I wished I could console it, tell it that life here on the ground wasn’t so bad and that people and flowers can live just fine without their dreams. I could taste the words in my mouth as I gazed at the purple flower. Then I swallowed them without a sound and walked on. The flower didn’t need me to tell it the lies I’d been told.

I passed the flower many times that week as I walked the earth. It stayed curled and wouldn’t look at me. Had it stared into my heart when I stared into its? Did it know that I given up on the sky? Maybe it was afraid it would turn out like me if it looked too hard. So it hid its face and its heart from me and wouldn’t even acknowledge a fellow dreamer. In truth, the purple flower looked like it was busy with something. So I left it alone and went on my way.

Something about that purple flower kept calling me back. I would sit by it while it was curled and imagined it was staring at the sky with me. I would talk to the flower and tell it all the small dreams I’d used to replace the sky with. I talked about airplanes and the view from their windows. I didn’t mention to the flower that you can’t feel the wind from the inside of an airplane. I talked to the purple flower about windy days on the prairie, how the wind rushes by with nothing standing in its way and how it feels against my face when I stand in it. I didn’t tell the flower that when the wind has gone far away I am still standing on the earth where I started. Mostly I just sat with the flower while it thought and fretted on what ever it was doing.

One day the flower was gone. I was standing by the place I had put it, staring at a total lack of purple flower. I looked on the ground for it, but it was gone. Just gone. I was all alone on a sidewalk wishing there was someone to dream with.

I turned to go when something brushed against my face. I put out my hand and a butterfly landed on my finger. It was the most beautiful butterfly I had ever seen. Its wings were brilliant purple, gold and green. It flew from my hand to the hedge and gave me time to recognize it as the flower that had been. And then the dreamer fluttered its wings and flew away into the sky.

I wasn’t me today. When I woke I looked in the mirror and decided to be someone else. I simply did not want to spend one more day as myself. It’s like wearing the same clothes again and again. So I went to my closet to find someone new to wear.

There was Peppy Girl hanging in my closet. She was always smiling and laughing and everyone liked her. She got excited about whatever was going on around her and was the energy of everything she was part of. People asked her to parties because she was so much fun and people noticed when she walked into a room. Maybe I would be Peppy Girl today.

There was also Smart Girl in my closet. Maybe Smart Girl was a good choice. She wasn’t that smiley, but she was very smart. She brought gravity and intelligence to every conversation she entered and had opinions and new perspectives about the world. People respected her and listened when she talked. Maybe I should be Smart Girl today.

Another option hanging in my closet was Compassionate Girl. She wasn’t that much fun to wear because she cried a lot when other people cried and she noticed when someone was tired or stressed. She would hold crying babies and wander away from the party with that one person who just really needed to rant about something. She wasn’t all that much fun to wear, but when I had her on I felt needed and wanted.

As a last resort if I couldn’t decide on any of the other possibilities I could put on Geek Girl and walk around alienating people. She was great with useless trivia, but really weak with people skills. It was kinda fun to wear her occasionally because she got the weirdest looks from the people she talked to. But I wasn’t sure I felt like being Geek Girl today.

I stood in front of my closet and was indecisive. This shouldn’t have been such a big decision, but I just didn’t want to be myself today and I wanted who I put on to be new and exciting. I really shouldn’t care this much. I kept telling myself to just pick someone and get on with my day and yet I was still just standing in front of my options. This must be more important than I’d thought.

An odd thought struck me as I stood there. Why did I have to choose just one person to be today? Why couldn’t I take what I wanted from each of my options and put together someone new?

I didn’t see any objections when I looked around so I reached into the closet and started grabbing whatever looked like fun. I took Perky Girl’s hair and tied it up into bright bobblies on top of my head. I took Smart Girl’s mouth and made it into a knowing smile on my face. I grabbed Compassionate Girl’s eyes with their caring and warmth. And then I added just a tad of Geek Girl into the mix. I took her nose and hung it at a ridiculous angle on my face. I took what I wanted, what I thought would be the most fun and interesting. I took pieces from what hung in my closet and put them together into something completely different. I poked and prodded until I was satisfied and then slipped into who I would be for the day.

I strutted over to the mirror to see what I looked like. This first glimpse of something new would be so exciting. If I liked what I made maybe I’d wear her everyday. After a deep breath to add drama to the moment I stepped in front of the mirror. I found myself face to face with a girl that looked very familiar.

Oh, man. I’d made myself again.

I spent a day under the sky last week. The sun would have burnt me and I would have wilted in the heat, but I hid myself in a stream and waited out the day. I let the current carry me under a bridge where I caught myself on a rock and basked in the shade.

The water moved past me like a crowd that didn’t know my name. I trailed my fingers through the water and let some minnows nibble on them for a treat. A breath of wind caressed my face and I lay my head back and dozed…

I dreamed I was in a meadow full of birds. They were all singing together under a blue, blue sky. The sound of their songs was like a patch of wild flowers- different, bright, better together than they could be apart. I felt the song in my chest like sunlight on my face and I walked through the meadow of birds.

The birds flew away as I approached them, but made me feel like one of them as they left. I wasn’t lonely in that meadow though the birds were offering me solitude. I walked to the edge of the meadow and listened to the last strains of the bird’s songs as they faded like a sunset turning into night. Their song was replaced with the sound of water and wind playing games with the sand. I walked to the edge of the meadow and jumped off the cliff to the beach below.

The sand caught me and cradled me as I stared out at the ocean and tried to piece together the rules of the game. Waves crashed against sand like a pillow fight between children. The wind tossed the water up high while the sand snuck out into the ocean. I could feel the tide going out and pulling me along by my shoulders. I left the warmth of the sand and ran to the cold water to play.

The water was deep and cold and the wind threw it in my face. I joined their game though I still didn’t know the rules and we romped together under the sky. The sand would throw me up for the wind to catch. The wind carried me far from shore, holding me like a grass-covered hill in the springtime only to drop me into the cold ocean with no warning. The ocean carried me to shore as if I had been a boat with oars and gave me to the sand. I could have played this game forever, but the wind and the waves were needed elsewhere so I said farewell and began walking across the sand.

I walked across the sand with my shoes in my hand and the sky’s warmth covering my head. We scaled a hill together, the sand and I, but I rolled down the other side into the snow by myself.

The snow was up to my knees and still falling. The snowflakes danced down together through the still night. I caught as many as would fit in my hands and threw them back up to the sky so they could dance some more. The snow shone with starlight like a lake at full moon. I spread my arms wide and danced with the snow. We jumped, we spun and twirled, we danced together like flavors and spices.

We danced until the clouds had moved on and the snow stopped falling. I gave one final spin and landed on my back in the deep snow. The cold was delicious against my skin like apples in the fall. I lay on my back and counted the stars that winked at me from the clear, clear sky.

A star shot across the sky with a shimmering tail and I closed my eyes to wish and dream. The snow held me close as I drifted and slept.

The sound of a stream full of rocks woke me. I awoke in the stream, under the bridge, under the sky, more rested than I’d ever been before.

Once upon a time there was a girl who chased butterflies and saw pictures in the clouds. The girl lived with her father far from other children and so she spent much of her time in the quiet under the sky. She wasn’t at all lonely. She had never known friends her own age and so didn’t mind not having them and if she needed someone to talk to other than the stars or the birds she had her father. Her father loved her very much. On the important papers he kept safe for her it said her name was Alice, but her father and the clouds and the stars and the birds always called her simply Girl.

“Hey there, Girl,” her father would say as she crawled into his lap. “What did my pretty girl see today?”

Or he would say “Guess what I did today, Girl. I picked some flowers for the most beautiful little girl in the world.” Then he would show her the flowers he’d picked and tell her their names. Sometimes Girl could guess at the flower’s names, but her father usually knew finer names for them than she did.

Sometimes Girl’s father would get very tired because of all the work he had to do being both her father and her mother. When that happened Girl would make him a cup of coffee and bring it to him where he sat in his chair.

“Ah, that’s my Girl,” he would always say. And his Girl would sit beside him and do her best to give him some of her strength. At those times he would smile at her and peace would smooth all the lines from his face.

Girl knew that it was very hard on her father not to have a wife. He’d used to have a wife, but some time after Girl had come she’d gone someplace farther away than the stars. Girl knew that somewhere a piece of paper said her mother’s name was Mary, but Girl’s father always called her “your mama”.

He would get a distant look to him when he was talking about Girl’s mama. He looked like he was holding too much happiness and sadness in his face and Girl would climb into his lap and put her arms around his neck and listen as he told her stories about her mama. She hoped the telling would help some of his sadness go away so that only happiness would be in his face.

Girl’s father was usually a happy man. He would laugh with his wide mouth and toss her high in the air. He would tell her jokes as they ate dinner together and sometimes she laughed so hard she’d choke on her food. When that happened he would lift her arms up until she stopped choking and then they’d go on laughing together. Other times Girl’s father would want to be quietly happy. When he felt like that they’d go outside after all the work was done and they’d show each other pictures in the stars. Girl was very happy with her father under her sky.

One day Girl and her father got in the car and drove to town to pick up some things they needed. They drove with the windows down and Girl laughed as her hair blew all around her face. When they got to town Girl stayed very close to her father as he found and bought what they needed. She was always scared that somehow she’d get lost in the midst of all those people and she’d never find her way back home. So she held on tight to her father’s jacket and tried not to shy away from all the people who stopped to talk to her.

Eventually the purchases were made and loaded into the car. Girl’s father turned the car toward home and Girl felt herself relax a bit. Soon she would be home and a then she’d be free to breathe easily. She kept her window all the way up until they got outside of town and then she rolled it down and let the wind come roaring in. Town air smell funny to Girl.

It was when they were almost home that it happened. Girl’s father had turned to her to tell her a joke and then with no warning they were thrown against their seatbelts. Girl felt herself turn over and over. There was a sharp pain in her arm and she might have screamed, but her voice was lost in all the noise and pain. She heard her father yell and then she saw black.

The first thing Girl saw when she woke up was a window. The curtains were open and she could see the sky and the clouds, but the window was shut tightly so she couldn’t say hello. A kind looking woman came in and asked her how she was feeling. Girl tried to answer, but shyness stole her words away. The woman looked at her a little sadly and then said she would be back later. When she was gone Girl pulled her eyes away from the window and tried to find an answer to the woman’s question. She seemed to feel fine. The air tasted bad, her arm was very stiff and she ached all over, but when she thought of all the noise she’d been through she was pretty sure she should feel worse. She decided to tell the next person who came in that she was fine.

The next person to come in was a woman who looked familiar to Girl. She didn’t look as kind as the first woman and she seemed to have substituted sadness for kindness. But Girl had made a decision so she went ahead and told this woman that she felt fine. The woman seemed startled by this, but recovered quickly.

“That’s, that’s nice, dear,” the woman said. “I’m, I’m glad you’re feeling fine. Um, Alice, honey…” The woman looked at Girl with so much sadness in her eyes Girl was surprised she could still see.

“Alice, I have something I need to tell you,” the woman said. And then with a few words she blackened the clouds, put out the stars, ripped down the sun and broke apart Girl’s entire world.

The sun never rose on the day of the funeral. There was a gaping hole in the sky where the sun should have been and through the hole tears poured to earth. Girl stood on a small hill in the rain and wished her heart could cry like the sky.

She was alone in a group of people all pretending to be as sad as she was. They kept coming up to her and saying they were sorry, but she wasn’t sure what they’d done to be sorry for. They hadn’t taken her father away and that’s what had made her broken. Maybe they were apologizing to her for being there when she so desperately wanted to be alone under the sobbing sky. They kept apologizing, but when everyone finally climbed into their cars they just followed Girl back to her aunt’s house.

Girl had an aunt. She was the sad woman at the hopsital who’d broken the hole in the sky. Girl had known she’d had an aunt, but something had gone wrong between Girl’s father and her aunt when Girl’s mother had died and they hadn’t spoken much to each other since. Girl tried to believe that this woman was going to love her, but she still seemed so much like a stranger.

Girl seemed to be surrounded by strangers now that she was broken. She sat on Aunt’s sofa and felt hot and crowded. All the people who had apologized to her under the sky had all come to her aunt’s house to do it again. There wasn’t enough room for all of them so they were constantly moving and standing too close to each other. And since Girl’s heart was crying they all came and stood too close to her. She really wasn’t sure why. They’d apologized to her; they could go now. Did she need to tell them she forgave them before they would leave?

The day dragged on. Girl ate what she was given and drank when someone told her to. People came up to her and looked at her sadly while other people talked about her in hushed voices. One of her cousins was running around and laughing until someone scolded him. He stopped laughing and pretended to be sad with everybody else. The sky cried and the sun hid and Girl sat in the heat feeling broken.

Eventually everybody left. Aunt showed the last person to the door and sad the last goodbye. The house took a deep breath and settled in for the night. Aunt showed Girl to her room and left her for the night. Girl curled up around her broken heart and fell asleep.

The sun woke Girl up by gently stroking her face. She rolled onto her back and let the sun warm her face. If she lay there without opening her eyes maybe she could pretend she was home. She lay for a moment.

But it wouldn’t work. The feel of the sun, the smell of the air and the pain from her heart all told her that she wasn’t home. She got out of bed and went downstairs.

One thing Girl couldn’t get used to was that everyone seemed to have more names than they needed. She called her aunt Aunt and that worked fine, but Aunt seemed to want to be called Aunt Becky. Aunt Becky had two sons named Kevin and Mike. Girl had been told that they were her cousins, but she couldn’t simply call them Cousins. They needed to be called Mike or Kevin, but Girl was never sure why. They called Aunt Becky Mom which made sense to Girl, but it was just too different from what she was used to. Aunt Becky insisted on calling Girl Alice which just made her feel like her feet were slipping off the floor. She’s never been Alice before. Why did everything have to change just because she was broken?

“Did you sleep well, Alice,” Aunt asked as Girl sat down at the table.

Girl just stared at her trying to come up with an answer. She’d slept, but now she was awake and she didn’t feel any better. Sleeping hadn’t healed her brokenness any so did that mean she’d slept well or not? She opened her mouth to say she’d slept fine, but Aunt had turned away from her and gone to the stove. She came back with a plate of scrambled eggs and set it down in front of Girl.

“Eat up, Alice,” she said, trying to be cheerful.

Girl picked up her fork and then stopped and just stared at her food. She wasn’t hungry and the thought of eating made her feel sick. The smell of eggs wafted up to her and made her stomach turn over. She looked from her plate to her aunt and back to her plate. Aunt was looking concerned. The Cousins were staring at her.

“Alice?”

The room was suddenly too small and smell too much like town and people and strange names and food she simply couldn’t eat. Girl bolted from her chair and ran out the back door.

There was no place to go outside. She ran as far as she could from the house she was supposed to call home and from all the changes it stood for, but even that wasn’t far enough. Aunt’s backyard had room for a swing set, a bush no one could identify and a small patch of grass. Girl ran to the very back of the yard and slammed into the fence. She wanted to run more, to run forever. She wanted to run until the wind in her face blew her tears away. But she didn’t have any room to run. She was at the end of the yard and there was no more room to run and not enough space to scream.

So she went to the swing set and began to swing. She closed her eyes and went back and forth, up and down. The wind around her began to move faster and faster. The sun kissed her eyes whenever she was up and warmed her hair when she was down. She swung with desperate engergy, like someone running from sharp teeth or claws.

Girl’s Aunt stood on the back porch and watched her. Her sadness made her forehead wrinkle and her concern made her mouth pucker. She stood and watched and mourned for the pain she could do nothing to touch.

And so it went. Girl spent most of her days in the yard either swinging or under the bush. Her aunt spent most of her time worrying about Girl. Kevin and Mike spent most of their time either ignoring their cousin or frightening her with their attempts to play with her. Girl couldn’t get used to so many people all around her with all their confusing names. She couldn’t get used to only the small patch of sky the houses gave her or the way the air tasted of town. Mostly she couldn’t get used to being broken.

It was Kevin who saved her. He was the older of the two boys and he was just old enough to notice something was wrong with his cousin. Mike was too little to notice he should care and usually overwhelmed Girl with his energy and excitement. But Kevin started to notice that her face never smiled and her eyes never laughed. He noticed that his mother was worried and that the house hadn’t been the same since Girl came with her sadness. He saw her brokenness and decided to fix it.

One day in the middle of summer Kevin went out to the yard where Girl was swinging. He stood in front of the swing until she felt his presence through her eyelids. When she came to a stop he held out his hand.

“C’mon, I’ve got someplace to show you.”

Girl was confused and wary. She didn’t know of anything in this new place that she wanted to go see. But Kevin was looking so pleased and he wasn’t the cousin that bothered her. So she put her hand in his and let him lead her away.

They walked out the front gate and down the street. Girl looked nervously at each house they passed and wasn’t sure she wanted to do this. She had never walked down a street like this before with all it’s cars and houses and people. She held tightly to Kevin’s hand and was relieved when he held tightly to hers.

They walked for several blocks turning here or there. Soon Girl was completely lost. Every street looked the same except that there seemed to be more people the further they went. The houses started to crowd closer together like people at a party and they were starting to loom like an angry man. Girl was about to ask to go back when Kevin stopped.

“We’re here,” he said.

And then he led her into a piece of green that looked like it had been carved out of the city by a giant’s masterful hands. There were trees that towered like buildings, but someone had left enough space between trees to see the sky. There was grass that lay flat like a blanket and looked like it would hold you up as you ran and ran and ran. In places there were flowers that looked so well loved Girl suspected they already had names. The sun streamed down from the sky and Girl was so happy she started to cry.

Kevin tried to explain.

“I knew you liked grass and I thought you were sad so I thought maybe you’d like it here.”

He fumbled for more words, but something whispered to him that maybe this wasn’t a time for words. So he closed his mouth and he put his arm around his cousin’s shoulders and let her cry. There, with the sunlight on her hands and her cousin’s love around her, Girl felt the hole in her heart close just a bit.

They had a wonderful time at the park. Kevin had brought a lunch and after they ate he chased Girl around and she ran and ran and ran. The green brought a smile into her eyes and made her face full of laughter. They played ball with some children Kevin found at the park. Girl chased the ball and for a moment almost thought it was a butterfly. The wind ran with them and the sky drew pictures in the clouds for them. Kevin showed Girl how to find faces on cars and they splashed in the fountain together. Girl finally felt like she had space to breathe and laugh and cry. So she did and her brokenness healed a bit more.

When the streetlights began to turn on Kevin said it was time to go home. They packed up and took hands again and started for home. On the way Kevin told Girl stories about the streetlights and the gnomes that live inside them. They came up with names for all the streetlights they passed and laughed all the way home. And Girl never once noticed the looming houses or the passing people.

After dinner that night Aunt Becky, Kevin, Girl and Mike got into the car and drove out of the city. Kevin told Girl he had something else to show her and that he had made Mike promise to be good. They drove in peaceful silence, going away from the lights and the people and the noise. Girl leaned against the window and watched it all go by.

They drove until the lights outside were few and then up a tall hill. Aunt Becky parked the car by the side of the road and Kevin and Girl got out. Kevin led her to the edge of the hill and told her to look.

At their feet lay the city. Its thousands of lights twinkled and glimmered like stars, its buildings rose and fell like waves. From up here the noise was muted and all the sharp lines were softened. Girl looked down on the city and realized it was beautiful.

She took a deep breath in and healed some more. And Kevin, who was standing close to her, felt it happen and smiled.

The End

I’m standing in the courtyard preparing to go in to see the King of All. I’ve put on all my best clothes and brushed my hair til it shines. There are dozens of people in the courtyard with me, but I feel all alone in my nervousness. All alone but for the butterflies that have crowded into my stomach.

I know that when I enter the throne room the King of All will be sitting on his throne. This is what I’ve been told by all who I’ve asked. He will sit on his throne of mastery that rises from highest peak of the tallest mountain. The throne is seven stories high and made from a single stone that had been found buried at the bottom of the ocean. There is a platform at his feet where I will stand to make my petition.

I won’t look at him while I speak. I am to look at the floor and speak my piece. I have been told that if one stares at the floor long enough the pattern will reflect the face of the mighty King seated above you, but only two people have stood before the King of All long enough to see the reflection. Their petitions must have been very impressive to stand so long before such a mighty King. Some say a minute of his time is more precious than most people’s lives.

I have memorized my petition down to the syllable. I know exactly what I will say and how I will say it. I do not hope to impress the King; that would certainly never happen. But I do want to speak my whole piece. If I hadn’t memorized it I’m sure I would forget large parts of it. And how will the King grant what I ask if he doesn’t know all that I’m asking?

Not that I expect him to grant my petition, of course. I have been told that very few of the requests that are brought to the King are ever answered. Surely he should not trouble himself with all these little petitions. The King is busy with matters of the Universe; he is far too important for my request.

The doors before me open and I am ushered forward. I feel the press of the people behind me who are still waiting. They are pushing forward to see what is inside. I walk through the doors into a hall as tall as the sky and as grand as sunshine on the ocean. I am repeating my petition as I walk to the door I am ushered to. The beauty and grandeur is close to taking all my words away. I step to the door, a very simple door, and prepare to stand before the King of All.

The door opens on a room that takes my breath away. It is simple. It is cozy and warm. It’s a room where I would sit at my ease with a book and a cup of coffee. Surely this isn’t the King’s throne room. Surely this is the room I’m to wait in until the King’s pleasure. I walk into the room and sit down on a chair that seems made for me.

Sitting across from me is a man. He looks up when I sit down and my generic greeting flies from my lips. His eyes, his eyes are twinkling at me with wisdom, power, strength, warmth and laughter. Those eyes in that face. And he’s letting me sit in his presence.

I am too frozen to even tumble out of my chair to the floor where I belong. The King of All pushes a steaming mug across the table toward me.

“Coffee?”, he asks.

The stars were so pretty that night. Cloudless and cold, the sky hung above me and never noticed me watching it. It felt good to be invisible. The sky didn’t care how I looked or what I was thinking about. It wouldn’t ask my opinion or about my day. The sky was too big to notice me, too far away to care about just one more speck staring up at it.

I hugged my jacket closer around me and tried to hold onto the feeling of invisible. I’m not here I’m not important, but the sky was beginning to notice. Perhaps I had been staring too hard. I ducked under the picnic table and wasn’t there as loud as possible.

“I’m not here!”, I shouted at the sky.

“Look someplace else! Go far away with your bigness and your stars.”, I pleaded.

“I just wanted to see. I didn’t mean you to find me. You were so far away I didn’t think it would matter.”

I pulled my jacket over my head as the sky came down to earth.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “ Please go away.”

I hid my face and waited to be forgotten. Soon, soon the sky would remember it was big and cold and far away and it would go back up and forget the speck who had dared to stare. I breathed deep and quiet and waited.

Between one breath and the other I felt the picnic table lifted away.

“Hello,” said the sky.