When I was just a little blonde-haired girl, my favorite book was
GRIMMS' Fairy Tales by The Brothers Grimm. How could anyone resist the charm of such a book? I had learned to read at any early age and this book with all its adventures and tragedies and scariness was my lifeline into another world. How I enjoyed crawling behind the big, blue high-backed chair in our living room and escaping into that book. Thus began my love affair with books. Later it developed into story telling. I made up stories and told them to, first, my brother and sister and then to my own children.
Just this past week I felt the urge to write a fairy tale. Something I haven't done in years and years and years. I didn't know what it would be. I just let my heart and my fingers take me where they would. It became a mixture of my present life situation and a lot of imagination. Perhaps not your ordinary fairy tale but then who can really define a fairy tale?
AN OLD FASHIONED KIND OF FAIRY
There once was a woman who lived alone in a small hut in the deep forest. The hut was a sad place now but it had not always been that way. Once the woman was happy and laughed all the time. She and her husband had been blessed with a child in their old age. But soon after the child was born, the old man died and the woman and her child were left alone to take care of each other. This made the woman love and cling to her child even more.
He grew up to be a happy, intelligent little boy. Every day seemed like a celebration. They sang and danced together and they would twirl around and around until they got dizzy and fell down. How they would laugh. They cooked together and gardened together. In fact every day was spent in making each other happy. She knew one day her child would grow up and leave but for now everything was perfect.
Then one day her little boy went into the forest alone to gather flowers to put on their table. When he didn't return, she was in a panic. She grabbed her shawl and ran into the forest searching and calling his name. To her shock and total heartbreak, she discovered that her child had died. A sudden and violent death. "NO! NO! NO!" she screamed "It isn't his time to go. Not yet." But he was gone and there was nothing to be done about it.
Before her heartbreaking loss, the woman felt young and youthful but now she felt very, very old. Old and useless and worn out. Some days she didn't even bother to get dressed or brush her hair. Her days were bleak and without warmth or joy. She wandered about aimlessly in her hut with no purpose. Things that once brought her joy now held no meaning and sit dusty in the corner. Day after day was the same. All she could do was think about how much she missed her beloved child. Sometimes she even forgot to go to bed and would find herself still sitting in her rocker in the morning.
One day when she felt she would loss her mind if she stayed inside her hut one more moment, she rushed head long into the forest. She ran and ran fighting her way through low hanging branches and stumbling over roots. She could barely see where she was going because her eyes were flooded with tears. She ran until she could run no further. Exhausted she fell to the ground. How long she lay there feeling her heart pounding in her chest and gasping for breath no one can really say. Eventually her heart and breathing slowed down and strength began to return. She was able to pull herself to her feet with the aid of a branch on a fallen tree.
Looking around she realized that she didn't know where she was. She stood there for a moment looking first to the right and then to the left. She looked in back of her and again to the front. She was hopelessly lost. Was she frightened? Oh, no, she wasn't frightened. She wasn't frightened because she no longer cared. Life meant nothing to her. How many times had she prayed that her life would be taken too but there was no answer to her prayer. Then she stopped and thought "Perhaps this is the answer. I am lost. No one knows where I am. I will sit down by that old rotted-out tree and wait until my time comes."
So the old woman gathered her skirt and petticoats about her legs and settle down on the ground to wait. And wait she did. All day she waited. As evening begin to creep across the forest floor, the air turned chilly and the woman realized that she had no shawl to cover her shoulders and she was hungry. Hearing a babbling brook not too far away she went there first to quench her thirst. Looking about she saw some berries. She gathered them in the apron of her dress. Knowing she would be staying the night in the cold woods, she crawled inside the hollow of the rotted tree to protect herself from the cold night air. She ate her berries and although she was cold and uncomfortable, she fell into a fitful sleep.
Dawn broke and with it the woods were filled with sound of birds. "How noisy" she thought. "Why can't they be quiet and just leave me in peace." That was not to be so the woman sat up and finished the berries that were still laying in her apron. She crawled out of the tree and settle once again on the ground waiting for her time to come. She waited and waited. Then she began to cry and cry and cry.
A little bird that had been watching her from a high branch flew down and perched on one of the branches of the dead tree. She watched her for a little longer and then she said, "Why do you cry woman and why are you sitting here all alone in the forest?" The woman looked at the bird and said, "I cry because my child has died and I am alone because I choose to be alone in my sorrow." The bird cocked her head one way and then the other. "But why does that make you sad mother? In the forest flowers spring up and blossom and then they fade and die. The trees bud out and make new leaves in the Spring but in the Fall they die and fall off the trees. In the forest there is a beginning and an end to everything but that doesn't make us sad." The woman continued weeping so the bird flew away.
After a while the woman laid her head against the tree and fell a sleep. When she awoke, the sun was high in the sky. Why am I still here she thought to herself. Why hasn't an angel come to take me to my child" With that thought she was once again overcome with grief and began to cry. During her sleep she hadn't noticed that a hairy caterpillar had settled itself upon her shoulder. He called out in his loudest voice, "Why do you weep woman and and why are you sitting here all alone in the forest?" Not seeing him, she thought at first she was hearing the voice of an angel and she replied, "Why do you ask me that? You know that my child has died and I am waiting for you to take me to him." The caterpillar looked at her in wonder. "You are far too large and heavy for me to take any where!" he exclaimed.
"Who is talking to me?" asked the woman, "It is me, myself. I'm the beautiful hairy caterpillar sitting on your shoulder. But I don't understand why you are crying. Just change yourself into something else. The mother bird lays an egg and it turns into a baby bird. The baby bird gets bigger and then it flies away. After I have eaten my fill, I will spin a cocoon and turn into a beautiful butterfly and I will fly away. You are already big and it looks like you've eaten your fill so why don't you just change into something else and fly away, and then your problems will be over." The woman cried out to him, "I am trying to change myself into something else. I'm trying to change into an angel. Then I, too, will fly away and find my child." This just made the woman cry louder and longer. The little caterpillar covered his ears to muffle her wailing, shook his tiny head, and crawled away.
Soon her tears dried and she discovered that she was hungry. Very, very hungry so she got up and began her search for more berries. She stopped at the babbling brook for a cool drink of water before resuming her search. She came upon a briar patch full of the most beautiful, plump blackberries. At first she hesitated about putting them in her apron because she knew they would leave stains that would be impossible to get out. Then she remembered that soon she would be an angel and it wouldn't matter so she filled her gathered up apron and went back to her spot by the rotted out tree. She ate her berries while she waited for her time to come.
After a while she wanted no more berries and having nothing better to do, she began to cry once again. She thought to herself if I cry really, really loud maybe the angels will hear me and rush down to take me to Heaven to be with my child. With that she began to cry as loud as she could.
An old man traveling through the forest heard her cries and went in search of her. He saw her lending against the tree with her head in her arms weeping and wailing. "My dear, dear woman", he called out "Whatever can the problem be that makes you sit alone in the forest weeping as though your heart has broken?" The woman was startled because she had not heard him approaching. Gathering her senses she replied "Old father I sit here crying because my child has died and I am waiting for my time to come so we can once again be together."
"And how long have you been sitting here in the forest waiting?" he asked.
"A day, one night, and now another day" she answered.
"And have you just been sitting there all this long time?"
"Yes, except for when I gathered berries to fill my empty stomach, drank water from the babbling brook, and crawled inside the tree to protect myself from the cold. Other than that, yes, I have just been sitting here. Sitting here and waiting to become an angel so I can fly away to Heaven and be with my child."
The old man smiled and settled himself down next to her. They sat that way for a while without speaking. Finally the woman could not take the silence any longer.
"Why are you sitting here with me?"
The old man said, "I thought I'd keep you company until your time came."
So they sat and sat and sat leaning against the tree. Waiting and Waiting. Evening was approaching. Finally the old man said to her, "Your time isn't going to come today or tomorrow either."
"Of course it will!" she said. "I've patiently been sitting in this cold forest for two days now and one night and another night will soon be upon us. After I eat a dinner of berries and drink some water from the babbling brook, I'll crawl back into the tree and by morning my time will have come and I'll be an angel in Heaven with my child. Of this I am quite certain."
The old man reached over and took her hand. "My dear, dear lady, you have found protection from the cold, you have quenched your thirst, and you have sought out nourishment. No your time is not now. You are not ready yet. Let me take you home."
The woman let out a deep sigh. Perhaps he is right she thought. She was cold and weary and tired of sitting in the woods waiting for her time to come so weakly she allowed the old man to help her to her feet. She took his extended arm and they began their walk to her hut together. During their walk he ask her all nature of questions about her child. Soon she was laughing about the good times they had spent together and before she even realized it she found herself on the old familiar path leading to her house.
When she at last fell into silence caught up in her memories, he said softly, "I will leave you now. You know well the way to your hut from here. Bless you and good night gentle woman" and with that he turned and began walking away. She continued on down the path alone still thinking about how blessed her life had been because of her child. Momentarily she realized that she hadn't thanked him and turned to call out to him. But when she did, he wasn't there. The path was long and straight but she could see him no where along it's length. She stood there puzzled for a while but she was tired so she shrugged and continued the short distance to her hut.
When she entered, a fire had been built in the hearth and a warm bowl of soup sat upon her table with a thick slice of bread. She settled herself down before the fire and ate her dinner. It has been a strange two days she thought. She'd had conversations with both a bird and a caterpillar. She had spent time with a kind old gentleman that had somehow managed to disappear almost before her very eyes. A fire had been built and warm soup welcomed her home. As she sat there thinking about it, it suddenly didn't seem unusual or strange at all. It felt as though everything had happened just as it should have.
For just a moment she wondered why her time hadn't come when she was so sure it would. Again she shrugged. Oh well, it will just have to wait and come another day because now I'm going to snuggle down under my big fluffy down coverlet and go to sleep in my soft bed in my very own toasty warm hut. Tomorrow morning the sun will rise and I will rise with it. I will put the kettle on to boil then settle down in my rocking chair before the fire and sip my tea. So the old woman went to bed and fell into a deep sleep with pleasant thoughts in her head.
The following day and for many days after that the old woman sat in a chair in her yard. No more did she sit inside staring at the walls and thinking only of how much she missed her little boy. It was late Spring in the deep forest. The earth was renewing itself. She sat and watched as the world changed around her each day. There was so much to see.
New plants were popping out of the ground, growing, and reaching for the sun. Birds were playfully chasing one another. Squirrels were chattering and scolding and jumping from tree to tree. She began crocheting again because she knew that when Fall came she would need a warm blanket to cover her knees when she sat outside. A lot of days she would fall sleep while sitting outside in her chair.
Please don't think that she had stopped missing her child because she did - with all her heart. Many days she would sit out there crying and remembering. But when she had stopped crying, all the things that surrounded her in nature gave her a sense of peace.
One day after napping in her chair, she awoke to see far down the path a group of people approaching. That was strange because rarely did anyone come down the path to her little hut. She sat attentively watching as they drew nearer. Finally her eyes were able to focus on their faces. She jumped up from her chair so quickly that she knocked it over. She began running toward the now familiar faces with out stretched arms. And running toward her was her little boy. They threw their arms around each other crying and laughing all at the same time. Then she saw behind him her husband and her mother and father, her grandparents, aunts and uncles. And following behind all of them was the kind, old man she had met in the forest.
There was much hugging and many tears of joy. The kind old man stood back and watched for a while. When he stepped forward and everyone fell silent. He took the old woman's hands in his own. He looked deep into her old eyes and said, "At last your time has come, dear lady, and we've come to take you home. Come join us and we will journey together." The old woman and her husband wrapped their arms around each other's waist and the little boy grabbed his mother's hand and pulled her along behind the kind old man. At long last they would all be together again and she was happy. Very, very happy. She had received her wings.
The people in the village talked for years about the beautiful flock of white birds that flew overhead that day. They flew in perfect formation and then they turned and flew straight up, disappearing into the heavens. Never had anyone seen such beautiful birds. Some even said that they didn't believe they were birds at all. They said that when they all turned together and the sun reflected off them, they looked just like angels. Most of the villagers laughed at them and teased them but they stood firm in their belief. They were sure that they had seen angels that day. And so it was.
