The boy was in bed as soon as supper was gone and his face was clean. It was Baranthet’s last night at Grandmother’s house. He always loved harvest week, the time of year when he came to stay with Grandmother while his parents went to check on things up north. Lin jumped into bed too, and the two of them listened as Grandmother’s footsteps approached, waiting for their story.
Grandmother closed the door most unceremoniously and went to wash the dishes.
“But Grandmaaaaaaaaaaaa...”
She opened it again, laughing. “Very well, Baranthet. Where were we? Ah, yes.
“Once, epochs and days ago, there was a worm who tended a garden high on a mountain. The worm was very kind, always watering the trees, tilling the soil, and making sure that creeping ivies stayed pruned so that the thousand birds who played overhead would have a branch to sleep on if they needed a place to rest.”
“He didn’t get eaten?”
“No, for while worms are tasty, this worm’s garden grew flowers with the most delicious nectar, and all the birds would rather have a lifetime of tasty treats than just one tasty worm. The kind worm took care of the garden, and all the birds in it, even though the flowers were so high up in the clouds that he would never be able to reach them to enjoy them for himself.
“One day, the kind worm noticed that his trees were withering. Distraught, he looked up to see that the rain had gotten stuck in the sky (things get stuck there sometimes). He tried calling for one of the birds to poke a hole in it, but they were so busy singing that they didn’t hear him. He tried climbing one of the trees to reach it, but the tree was so tall that he couldn’t make it even halfway up. He tried throwing a stick to see if he could knock the rain down, but unfortunately, worms don’t have arms, so they’re not the best at throwing.”
“Did he go to the warden?”
“No, he didn’t, for he was a bit too polite, and he didn’t want to bother the warden with such a trivial matter. And besides, he was in the realm of the Warden of Peaks and Skies, and no matter how you look at it, that’s not where a worm belongs. He thought about going to one of the other wardens, but they were off in the other chapters of the story, so he wasn’t sure what to do. He cried himself to sleep.”
Baranthet’s eyes were watering too, though it was because he had forgotten to blink.
Art by Mayra Luna
“The Warden of Peaks and Skies saw the little worm struggling on the ground to restore the garden, for it is the duty of a warden to care for not just the creatures of their realm, but all creatures, and the land itself. She considered knocking the rain down herself, but she had a better idea.
“When the kind worm awoke, he found next to him a pair of wings, spun from a rainbow, sitting there as if to say, ‘If you need these, they’re yours to wear.’ The kind worm was delighted at the wings, which were exactly his size, and he put them on, fluttering up to the rain and knocking it down. The trees drank up the rain and sprouted a whole feast of flowers, and this time, it was not just the birds who enjoyed them, but the kind butterfly too.
“And ever since that day, after every Migration, the Warden of Peaks and Skies has always been one who takes care of their home, who looks out for others, and who isn’t afraid of change. Remember, Baranthet, that the animals of nature are part of their realms, and they take care of their environment as much as it takes care of them. If the realm changes, they can too… though it may take some time.”
The boy thought of how he was so slow and clumsy that he never got picked first to play thlipit. “Must be nice to wake up and be better at stuff.”
Grandmother saw a chance for some wisdom. “Do you know why I keep dragonflies in the garden outside?”“...because they don’t sting?”
“True! Though they are fierce hunters, and they keep the mosquitos away. But no, I like them because many think of change as something that happens in a grand single moment of transformation. The worm goes to sleep and wakes up the next morning as a butterfly. But dragonflies are different. They’re—”
“Hemimebatolous!” The boy remembered reading this in his ecology book.
“Indeed!” Baranthet was mostly right, so Grandmother let it slide. “They change little by little, until one day they can fly over the water they once swam through. Not everyone has one moment of transformation, Baranthet—some people more gradually become what they’re supposed to be.”
The boy seemed to think it over, his eyes growing heavy. Lin yawned beside him.
Grandmother stood. “There’s only one more part left in this story! My, but it feels like the week has gone in a blink! I wish I got a bit more time with you each year, but your parents will be back tomorrow, right after supper.”
“You’ll tell me how the story ends though, right? Maybe after breakfast?”
“Of course I will.” Grandmother drew the covers up. “But that, my little explorer, is a story for another day.”
As Grandmother closed the door, she could hear the boy mumbling to Lin as he drifted to sleep. “I don’t know why she always calls me that, Lin. I’ve barely left Droon, and I’m no good at swimming or hiking or fighting or anything like that.”
Grandmother smiled, for the stars, you see, are incorrigible gossips, though they are very far away and we usually can’t hear what they’re saying about us, which honestly is probably best for all involved. But some iruxis, on nights when the sky is clear and the wind is just right, can just barely catch their whispers, and Grandmother’s ears were keener than most.
She said to herself, too low for the boy to hear, “You may not have explored much other than books, Baranthet, not yet. But I hear one day, you’ll fly far from here, on just the grandest adventure.”
About The Author
Grandmother
For the first chapter in Grandmother’s story, click here.
For yesterday's chapter, click here.
For the final chapter of Grandmother’s story, click here.
Grandmother’s Story, Part 4: Of Peaks and Skies
Thursday, May 11th, 2023
