Sometimes it was difficult, this new city life. It was hard to adjust not only to the constant loudness in all its many forms, but also to the way people behaved. They so rarely took the time to pass on a simple kindness, or to even look at each other. Lila rather missed knowing every car that went by, having neighbors drop in for no other reason than to simply visit, and, well, just about every other thing about how people interacted in the country. It was so easy to get caught up in superficial things in the city, social cliques and fashion, gossip and politics.
None of that mattered here, in this meadow of relative solitude. She could leave all her worries behind and let her mind drift, both to dreams for the future and to memories past.
Today, Lila once again found herself transported by the warmth of the sun to the cornfields of time gone. In this memory, however, she wasn't alone. A sweet voice sang, "Blue moon, you saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own...." Lila looked up at her mother, a tall and slender woman, with a heart full of love. The woman moved with ease and grace through the rows of corn, carrying a loaded picnic basket before her as if it bore no weight at all.
Lila tried to imitate her mother's gentle elegance as the angelic voice carried away on the breeze, straightening her posture and swaying her hips, but she only succeeded in feeling really silly, like one of those goofy TV models, and giggled. Her mother turned around, putting on a mock scowl. A breeze blew red curly locks across her face, and she said with a toss of her head, "Are you laughing at my singing again, young lady?" She bent to tickle Lila, who jumped back with a giddy laugh.
"No, Mommy! I was trying to walk like you."
Putting down the basket and turning, her mother said, "Like this?" and strolled with an exaggerated sway, one arm curved skyward.
Lila giggled and said thoughtfully, "Kind of. Will I ever be able to?"
Her mother came back to her, kneeling before Lila with an expression she didn't quite understand. "I'm ever so certain you will, my dear girl, and far too soon for my liking." Taking Lila in a hug, she said softly, "For now, nothing could make me happier than seeing you walk like a seven-year-old girl, okay?"
"Okay."
Lila's mother stood, brushing a finger discreetly along one eye. "You lead, child of mine." Lila walked ahead and her mother asked, "Do you want to help me sing to the crops?"
Lila glanced over her shoulder with a puzzled expression. "Why do you sing to the corn, Mommy?"
"Because it helps it grow faster."
Lila laughed. Her daddy had started teaching her about farming, and she knew what made crops grow: sun, water, fertilizer. But singing?
"It's true, Lila," said her mother from behind. "Did I ever tell you about the experiment I did with plants in grade school?"
"No."
"Well, I was really bored with science class by fifth grade. All the projects were simply too boring, but then I found one in a book that sounded quite interesting. It claimed that if you were nice to one plant and mean to another, the plant you'd been nice to would grow faster."
"Really?" Lila had never heard of such a thing. She liked plants, but had never thought of them as anything more than that. How could plants, after all, have feelings?"
"Really. I didn't quite believe it, either, so I decided to try it for myself. And it worked, Lila. It really made a difference that I sang to the plant, and said nice things to it."
Lila was silent for a moment, thinking quietly. Then she turned, smiling at her mother, who was radiant, both smile and hair glowing in the sun, and said, "I'll help you sing, Mommy."
****
Lila was ten minutes late for dinner, but her father pretended not to notice. For a while, he also pretended not to notice how withdrawn she was, filling the silence with small talk about the day as his daughter sat quietly, lost in thought.
Finally, he said, "You've been thinking about your mother."
At this, Lila looked up, surprised. "How did you know?"
"I overheard a bit of your planning session today. You're doing the experiment she used to talk about."
Lila nodded, blushing.
"I think it's a good idea," he said.
"You do?"
"I do." He paused. "So what else is going on?"
Lila knew what he meant. It wasn't like her to be so silent over dinner. It was probably pretty obvious she was hiding something.
"Well..." she started slowly, hesitantly. "I've been thinking about how well you and Helga get along... and if you'd be happier if I were more like her."
He put down his fork and looked at her with genuine concern. "Absolutely not. What would give you such an idea?"
Lila couldn't meet his gaze, so instead looked at her plate as she said, "You laugh more with her than with me, and share things with her that I've never heard."
"Sweetie, I've only met the girl twice. I knew she was your friend, thought she looked pretty miserable, so I tried to make her feel comfortable. I told some jokes, that's all. I tell you jokes all the time."
"But you told her about people you work with. She said you laughed about how dumb they were." Lila felt horrible saying all this, but the words needed to come out. She felt them as a weight upon her heart.
"Yeah, I did, but that doesn't mean I like her more than you. I love you, Lila, as only a father can love his daughter. Not telling you those kinds of stories - it's just because I know what a sensitive girl you are."
Lila said nothing, but was able to make eye contact.
"I love that you are kind-hearted and care about people. That's one of the many qualities that makes you so special. I love you more than anyone- anything in the world. Never doubt that."
Lila's vision was blurred by tears. She felt so bad for doubting him, and she was worried now that she had hurt him with her words. "I'm so sorry, Daddy."
"Don't apologize, honey. I'm glad you told me what you were thinking. We don't keep secrets, because we don't have to. We can tell each other anything, right?"
Lila nodded, and took a bite of mashed potatoes.
"You know, Lila, when you do that project, maybe you should try being the one who says mean things."
Lila was surprised at this. "But why, Daddy?"
"It might be a good experience, to see what it feels like to insult something, even if it's just a plant. Maybe it would help you understand why some people feel better when they gossip."
Lila thought for a moment, then put her fork down. "But that means... that Helga would be the nice one." It was so hard to imagine.
Her father shrugged. "Maybe it would be good for her to know what it feels like to say nice things."
Lila nodded. Maybe he was right. Maybe she and Helga had both gotten too used to being who they were. No, rather, too used to acting a certain way. It might be good for both of them to try something new.
Starting tomorrow.
"Thanks, Daddy. That's such a sweet idea."