The little boy crawled onto his
mothers lap and looked at her plaintively with his soulful brown eyes. "Tell me
a story, Mawma."
She smiled down at him and laughed
slightly. She never could resist him. Especially when he gave her his half
smile and said her name with all the maturity a 4 year old could muster. "What
story would you like to hear?" She asked, smiling at her son.
He pondered this seriously for a
moment. "I want you to make up a story."
This took her by surprise. He
usually liked Humpty Dumpty or The Three Little Pigs. Her stories never kept
his attention. "Ok," She said, slowly, racking her brain for a story. One
finally came to her and she paused, unsure if the little man on her lap was
ready for it. She shrugged and started it.
"Once upon a time there was a little
boy with the most beautiful brown eyes you will ever see."
"Like mine!" He cried, already
caught up in the story.
"Yes," the loving mother cooed,
holding up close on her lap. "The boy was just like you." He put his thumb in
her mouth and she continued. "He loved a little girl with long brown hair who
always had her nose in a book. He watched her for years. This little boy had a
secret. He shared it with his sister and best friend, but never with the little
girl. He wanted too, though. They never talked, yet the boy knew the girl would
understand the secret and the pain it caused him.
"Time passed and they both grew up.
The girl worked at a restaurant her family owned and write in a diary every
day. She was friends with a girl with golden hair and a tall, lanky boy who
wrote love songs. And still the boy watched her. His sister was breath taking,
but cold, his best friend was angry and afraid. The boy was very alone and
watched the girl even more than before. He had never been more alone and he
wished he could talk to her.
"One day at work the girl was shot."
"Oh no!" her son cried, pulling her
to reality.
"Don't worry." She told him, "Listen
to the story. The girl was shot. But lucky for her the boy was there. She fell
to the floor and when no one was looking he placed his stomach and healed her.
Suddenly the blood stopped and her skin closed up instantly. She was so
startled she didn't understand what had happened and he had left before she
could think or even say thank you. She went on with her day as if nothing had
happened.
"But as she thought about it, she
realized he had risked his life to save hers."
"Why?" Such a simple question. The
answer was simple, too. Why had it been so confusing?
"Because" Her voice was chocked, as
if she was holding back tears. "He loved her too much to let her die, even if
that meant risking his own life. Anyway, back to the story. He didn't know it,
but when he healed her he let a little bit of himself flow into her. It was
then that she realized she loved him, too. He tried to discourage her; it was
dangerous for them to be together. But she was part of him, and he was part of
her. No matter how they tried to fight it, they couldn't.
"They went on a lot of adventures
with their friends. Even when everything was scary and bad they had fun. It was
exciting. The girl wrote about all the adventures in her journal and they all
laughed when she reminded them about stories from years ago. They had sad
times, too. And they cried. But they still stayed strong and stayed together."
She paused, "At least 5 of the 6 stayed together.
"And they were afraid some and happy
some. They cried, but they laughed, too."
"Did they live happily ever after,
Mawma?"
She looked at him, startled, "I
don't know, honey." What could she say? Yes? But that wasn't true. But she
couldn't say no either, that would be a lie. Before she could say more he
simply nodded and jumped off her lap, eager to get on with the next game or
activity. She watched him go. "I guess the important thing is that they lived."
