She loved that tingle and space just before her eyes fluttered open on a new day. Her birds were twittering, the heat bugs stretching their wings and humming in streams of waking light, she could hear it, feel it. Coral Wing and Peach Blossom must be readying for school. She could imagine them, dressing in their finest clothes, chattering excitedly about what adventures would await them, grabbing the tiny sacks that held the tasty nectar and treats Mother had packed them, and scurrying out the front door of their toadstool home.
She wished she went to school with the fairies and goblins, robins and such. But wait, no. Then who would feed Gypsy, Dolly, Lucky and Vicky. They counted on her carrots and sugar cubes, not to mention her turning on the hose to fill the tough with fresh water. She’d tasted it once; mother had not been happy. But she was their mother and she must make sure they are always safe and well cared for. If she couldn’t drink from the slimy trough, then how could she ever expect them to. It was worth the tummy ache, to have father clean it properly and remove the bugs (even if it was on the condition that she’d never sample it again).
Although she wanted desperately to stay snuggled in, her eyes could no longer wait to see the morning. Gently she tightened them, only opening a slit to let the light slip in. The room was a hazy dream. Oh, she so loved her room. Mommy had made it just the way she envisioned it, bringing her favourite space, the outdoors, in. The carpet a mossy, grassy green, softer than her cuddliest teddy bear. The walls a light morning sky blue. And the curtains, the curtains were the best bit. Her mother had fashioned them from the fabric she’d picked, the one with the itty-bitty pink flowers, with green stems. The petals almost looked like hearts, tiny speckles of hearts, with green-flecked wings, floating in a warm sea of white.
The sounds outside her window were too exciting now to allow for any more sleep. She must be the first one up and downstairs; this was the fun, daily contest she had with her mother. The proud smile and wink Mommy gave her when she won, made even her sleepiest mornings worth the waking.
But today the house was a deep, dreamy quiet and the light so gentle, it must be even earlier than usual. Oh, what to do? “What adventure could I have before Mommy, Daddy, Pamie and Carrie get up too? How thrilling. Only grown ups get to go on solo explorations. But today I can!”
She turned back the white embroidered bed quilt, slipped her legs out and her feet down to the rug. For fear of waking any of the grown ups, she became her most fairy-small-sized self, and tip-toed out into the hall, of course not being so silly as to open a drawer or closet to change clothes; that would be fatal to the mission.
The hardwood floor was cool, but she steeled herself, making for the stairs, careful to avoid all the creaky planks, even when she had to hold the banister and step wide over some. Down. Down. Down. Made it. She avoided the front door. In this old farmhouse, it was likely to squeak, and it was way too close to the bedrooms and would surely reveal her whereabouts. So, in through the dining room, along the area rug edges, in and through the kitchen (linoleum was much stealthier), and home-free into the family room. She paused, letting her breath out, listening. Still, just silence, now only the slow swoosh of the sliding door to the patio, as she opened and closed again. Whew.
Now where? To visit the horses? The fairies up the lane, maybe see them off to school this morning? Or to her Fir Tree in the meadow (she knew it was an oak but there had been a fir tree in a story she’d once heard and loved and was certain she needed one too)?
“Wait… I know. I’ll go for a morning swim in the pond. That’s something big people do all the time. I’ve always had to watch from the skinny dock on land. This time, I can swim like they do, all the way out to the big floating dock in the middle!”
Her Daddy had taught her just a few weeks ago to go in without a lifejacket, to kick and move her arms, just like he did, and her sisters. She was so excited to try it on her own. She stepped onto the dewy grass of the patio, lifted her nighty, and tip-toed at first and then began to run the long laneway and across the rolling hills, past her horses and the garden she and Mother planted, dodging all the gopher holes she knew so well, toward the water.
The littlest of three girls, always told to be careful, to follow an adult, to wait … but as she ran, feeling the crisp morning air in her face, the sun just rising to warm her skin and her heart, certain the still pond awaited her splash to wake, she’d never felt so certain, so filled with joy, so free …
“Ah, nothing like lazy Saturday mornings, waking in this beautiful, old farmhouse, coffee soon to brew and a garden that needs wandering,” mother thinks as she stirs. Unusual that she’s waking on her own and not to the pitter-patter of her three-and-a-half year old, but she’ll take the breath between the busy, whenever it comes.
Moments later, the bedroom door creaks open and two pairs of eyes peer through the crack in the door. Mom and Dad give the signal they’re awake and Pamie and Carrie, of 16 and 13, bound into the room and up on the bed. The routine niceties of, “how did you sleep?”, “oh very well, thank you”, ensue. A discussion about the day, who will be cutting the lawn, feeding the horses, chores and activities all in arrangement.
And then suddenly, a worried look shadows Momma’s face.
“Where’s Jenny girls? She’s normally up by now. I don’t hear her. Have you seen her?”
“You’re right. That’s strange. No, I haven’t Momma,” Carrie says and stands up to go and look. As she does, something out the window catches her eye. She squints to see farther. It’s white, moving, moving just like … Jenny. It is Jenny, she’d know that favourite Sesame Street nighty and the little bouncy girl wearing it anywhere.
Alarm rises within her as she realizes what’s happening, or what’s going to happen.
“Mom, Dad, there’s Jenny, right there.” She points to the window, toward the rolling acres, toward the pond.”
Mom, Dad and Pamie all leap up, look out the window. All three of them see her, excitedly running, and although they can’t see Big Bird, Cookie Monster, Gover, or any of the yellow trim of her love-worn flannel gown, they know, they know it’s her and she’s straight out of bed and exploring, like her wild heart does.
But not alone, not at four, not to the water, no.
And in the flash of all these thoughts, Daddy has already taken off running.
She doesn’t even care that her favourite night grown has mud and grass along the edges; Mommy can wash it. It’s worth it. The buttercups and tall grass tickle her legs, the sun is up and heating the world now, and although she’s out of breath, she’s almost, almost, there.
“I won’t jump from the dock, that’s over my head and last time I swallowed all that water. Yuck,” she thinks, and heads for the shallow, sandy slope into the pond. No shoes to kick off, she heads right on in. A refreshing cool to her hot, muddy toes.
“I’ll just swim in my nightie. That’ll wash it alright.” In she wades, her eyes on the dock.
“I can make it. I’m as strong as my sisters. They may be older, but I can float and fly like a fairy when I’m in the water. I needed Daddy to hold me last time, but I’m sure I’m bigger, better now.”
Up to her knees, feet sinking into the deep muck, no longer able to walk, she let’s go, into the water, moving her arms just like Dad showed her, kicking her feet free of the reeds. Out, out, further. She struggles to keep her head up and to stop swallowing the mucky water, working to get free and into the clear deep water.
“Oh this is so much harder than I remember. But I can do it. I’m sure. If I can just get to the deep water I’ll be able to move my arms, my legs better. Almost there.”
As the ground drops off beneath her and the cold water surrounds, engulfs her limbs and tiny body, she’s shocked to feel the sheer exhaustion set in.
“Okay, I’m halfway there, but this is so much more work than I thought. Too. Much. Work. I’m so tired. Maybe I do need Daddy’s help. I can always go later today, with him.”
Swishing her arms and awkwardly swirling her legs she moves to turn back towards the shore. It’s so, so far away, and now she’s swallowing water, gasping, coughing, arms trying to grab the surface like a ledge.
“Oh no. Daddy? I can’t do it, can’t do it Daddy.” And feeling the heat of the sunbeams on her tiny face, watching the fairies dancing, sparkling, across the surface of her pond, her water, she let’s go, slips beneath and really is floating free.
In a second, a splash, and then a lifting, arms wrapped around her and that face, the face of the man she loves with all her heart. She can’t say it just yet, but she wants to, “Daddy.”
He’s smiling, a hint of something she hadn’t seen quite before, just behind that familiar look, that love twinkling.
“I’ve got you sweetie. No more solo swims for you for a few more years okay Jenny? Promise?” Daddy says.
It’s so warm next to him. So safe. She’s glad Daddy can’t see her tears in the wet. She wanted to be brave, to be big, but … not yet, not yet.
“I promise Daddy.” she whispers. And out of the corner of her eye she sees Coral Wing and Peach Blossom, can hear the flutter of their wings and their tiny hands clapping.
~ Excerpt from book-in-the-works A Life on Fire ©JenniferMaki2023 – all rights reserved.
*Please note the stories shared within are taken from elements of my life, but rather than accurate to the detail, have been spun into creative tales with the intent to ignite and fuel deeper understanding, higher joy and sweeter love within the soul.*
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