Answer

Image by Joyce Kanyuk

She found it difficult to navigate each day and sometimes could not seem to clear away the cobwebs from her mind. It was as though she was caught in the quagmire of the doldrums from which there was no escape and she wondered if she would ever be free of the tentacles that grasped her.

Her name is Kyara, a name her mother often told her meant someone who is ‘clear and bright’ , but it did not fit who she now was. Once, that would have been true, before she began to become a young woman, but now at the age of sixteen she felt like she was looking for the girl that she use to be before things became all cloudy and muddled and every day she felt like the ’Giant Sloth’. She had seen a picture of this creature on the Nat Geo channel, a creature so slow it seemed to be hardly moving at all. She understood this strange looking animal but when she looked in the mirror she saw a young woman, not the sloth, and she wanted her image in the mirror to match the name her mother had given her and it did not. Things were simply out of sync, like those movies you watched on the foreign film channel where they had tried to fit English words with the foreign actors who spoke another language, and they were off by just a few beats…just enough to give the impression of a comic relief instead of the actual roles they were portraying. Drama became comedy and that is how she felt, as though everyone were laughing at her instead of with her and she was on the outside looking in.

Her mother’s name, on the other hand, fit who she was…or at least she thought so. Her name is Saige, which means ’that of an aromatic herb or someone who is wise’. She looked it up after her mother told her about her own name as she wanted to know if it suited, her unlike how she felt about her own name, and it did.

She so loved her mother and how she seemed to be able to look at life in such a positive way. She couldn’t understand why as she wasn’t always well and often times took to her bed. But she did listen to her when she came to her and that was good but sometimes listening wasn’t always enough. She wanted answers to her questions. She wanted to know why everything seemed so ’out of whack’ and everything seemed so out of control. She felt like a train wreck waiting to happen and she had no idea of when it would. She just knew that it would. Her mother had took her to doctors, lots of them, and so far every one of them had not had an answer. She needed more tests, they said, but she was tired of tests. She needed answers. She told her mother how she felt and she said, “You know Kyara, words can give you strength, give you confidence and answers if you know where to look.” Kyara loved her mother, but really,?!? What was she talking about! Sometimes adults made no sense at all. She knew she had that look on her face, she always got, when she heard something her mother said that made no sense at all. She tilted her head sideways, rolled her eyes and took a deep breath and sighed. But her mother just kept on.

“Really, Kyara. I use to have this friend who was really good with words. She was a writer and when she wrote, her words brought things to life! When I read what she had written, life seemed to make sense. I asked her once how it was that she did that. She told me that it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. She sometimes had to do lots of research to find exactly the right words she wanted to convey what she wanted to tell people. Sometimes when she was looking she would find answers to her own questions or answers to questions she hadn’t even thought of. She said in doing this it made her feel confident and strong. It made her feel as though she was in control of her life no matter how bad things became. Her name was Paola.” I asked her what her friend’s name meant. She told me it meant, ’small or humble’. She told me her friend was ’no bigger than a minute’ and you would never know what she looked like if you had never met her but read the words she wrote. Well, I still didn’t understand but what could I expect, even from my mother. Sometimes adults spoke in such riddles and they looked at me like I should understand what they were saying but truthfully, I didn’t understand a word they said. I just looked at my mother, shrugged my shoulders, and walked away.

That night, as I lay in my bed, once again trying to make sense out of the world I now lived in, I kept thinking about what my mother was trying to tell me. Her friend was ’good with words’ but what did that have to do with me? I needed answers to why I felt the way I did. I was tired all the time and simply felt sick. I ate and got sick. I went out for just a little while with friends and got sick. Sometimes just being in the sun made me sick. I was tired of doctors poking and prodding and looking at me with that look that told me they were thinking but it also said they still had no answers. Words, words, words. That is all anyone ever had for an answer was words. But they weren’t the ’right words’, words I needed to hear that would help me to get my life back the way it use to be, where when I looked in the mirror, I would see Kyara, someone who is ’clear and bright’. With these thoughts playing in my mind I drifted off to another night of troubled sleep.

She dreamed but this dream was like no other. It was as though she really wasn’t asleep and so she thought, perhaps I am really awake. But the world she walked in was like no other, too. It was a sunny day but instead of causing her to feel sick, it warmed her skin and made her feel wonderful all over. The birds were chirping in the trees and, if she didn’t know better, she would have thought they were singing just for her. There were Robin Red Breasts, black headed Chickadees, little yellow Finches, Bluejays, and even the black and brown speckled Starlings. But what a silly thing to think. Yet, she kept on walking and found she was in a field of wild flowers. There were orange Poppies, Snapdragons of all different colors, Black-Eyed Susans and Forget-me-nots. The field went on forever with Nasturtiums, blue Cornflowers and beautiful Queen Anne’s Lace. Then it came to her.

How in the world did she know the names to all of these flowers and the names of all these birds. Could she really be dreaming?!? No, it must be that she had heard them somewhere. Perhaps a teacher in school or even her mother, who loved to garden when she felt better. That was it because she didn’t know the names of flowers or birds and really, lately she hadn’t the time to think about them, much less about the birds that seemed to be singing just for her. As she walked she looked around her and, even though it looked as though the flowers were all smiling at her, she just tried to ignore it. After all, flowers don’t smile at you anymore than birds sing for you. She just tried to enjoy the moment because after all, in the next moment she would probably feel sick again.

As she walked it came to her that she had a destination. She had to find a woman, she had heard about, that was ’good with words’. Perhaps she would help her to understand the world she now lived in, a world that not only was ‘topsy turvy’ but that now included birds that sang to her and flowers that smiled at her. Well, maybe she wouldn’t mention the birds or the flowers. That might have to be her own secret. It was bad enough that things were out of sync and made no sense but if she mentioned these other new things that seemed to be happening….well. She had still hung onto her mind and wasn’t about to let go of that, too. This woman might think she was ’out to lunch’ or was ’one brick short of a load’! Geez, where did she get this stuff! Oh, well, it made her feel better if only for the moment. So, she kept on walking in hopes that she would find this woman that was ’good with words’.

She kept on walking and soon came to a forest that seemed to go on forever just like the field of wildflowers. It looked foreboding but she didn’t let that stop her from entering as the shade of the trees and the breeze that was blowing was cool and seemed to touch her gently with each step she took. There were Giant Redwoods but everywhere in between there were also, shady broad leafed Maples with the beautiful white bark of the Birch tree that seemed to give brilliant spots of light throughout. Now and again she came across Aspens and flowering Hawthorne’s when it suddenly dawned on her. Not only did she not know the names of trees but even so, anyone could see that these trees should not all be in the same forest…should they? Too, as she looked around, their branches seemed to be beckoning her forward as though they knew which path she should take, as though they knew where she was going. Oh, well, everything else was so different here, why not. Now, she had heard birds singing to her, flowers smiling at her and trees, whose branches were like huge arms full of leaves and pine needles that were waving at her. It all seemed to fit in perfectly into this world she now lived in.

She walked on, for what seemed like forever, and just when she thought she could walk no more, she came upon a clearing. In that clearing sat a woman on a beautiful blanket woven of many colors. She seemed to be of such small stature that she seemed more like a child than an adult. At first, Kyara didn’t think the woman had seen her or known she was there but then, all at once, she looked up and looked right at her. Her face was kind and seemed full of love and compassion. Although she appeared small like a child she could see the lines of years and age on her face and something else, too, but what?!? Kyara walked toward her and felt compelled to sit down. Once she had she began to notice the little things.

There were shelves that seemed suspended in mid-air and each shelf had either empty jars on them or jars that were full. Full of what was something she could not quite make out but full they seemed to be. She could see that they seemed to almost be alive with little bits of light fluttering off and on, almost like a jar full of fireflies when they are captured on a Summer’s evening. But that certainly wasn’t what they were. No, something else. So, there she sat, with this woman who ’was good with words’ but she didn’t say anything at all. She looked down, at what appeared to be a book in her lap, and continued to scrutinize it as though looking to find something there. Beside her, on what appeared to be a small round table made out of stone, was a paper and pen. She seemed to have made notes of some kind on the paper and still said nothing. But Kyara hadn’t walked all this way for nothing. She wanted to know the answers to her questions. She wanted to know why everything was out of sync, off kilter and why things were so cloudy and muddled in her brain and she moved like a sloth. No one had been able to give her the answers and she had come here to this woman who was ’good with words’ because, certainly, she would know. Kyara then asked her the questions and waited for the answer but what she heard was not what she expected.

The woman who was ’good with words’ simply looked at her and said, “Welcome to my world of knowledge”, and as she spoke each word, that came out of her mouth, appeared as letters and each letter transformed before her eyes into beautiful butterflies, each one more amazing than the next! Kyara simply gazed transfixed on the air around her as she saw Swallowtails, Purple Emperors, Painted Ladies, and Red Admirals. There were also all different colored Coppers, and Fritillaries. There were so many colors and kinds that the air seemed alive and vibrant. Each one touched her and then left to go on its’ way, each one more beautiful than the last. When they were gone, Kyara didn’t know what to say. Then she asked the woman if she had really seen her words become butterflies. “But, of course.” she replied. “What else would you expect? But you let them go! Now, why is that. You asked for answers and ignored them when they came.” Again, here, the words came from her mouth and transformed and became butterflies and the air was alive and vibrant as they swarmed around her. Kyara was transfixed but also confused. What kind of answer was that to her questions. Had she come all this way for nothing?!? But the woman seemed intent on her book and upon the words she was scribbling on her piece of paper. It was like she hadn’t said a word. But the butterflies were again gone and all she really knew is that somehow they contained her answers and that the woman said she had let them go. But how was she suppose to catch them? This she asked the woman in hopes that she would finally have an answer. What was she suppose to do with butterflies and how were the answers contained inside of them! The woman slowly raised her head and again she spoke. This time Kyara tried to focus and listen and this is what she heard.

“The butterflies are the letters that make up your words and those words when you read them are in books of knowledge. This is where your answers will be when you look for them there. You may have to collect a lot of them before your answer will be complete but only you can find the answers you need. The books will contain the letters that make up the words that were written by many others before you. They found the answers that may be some of those you are looking for but you are the only one that can find the answers that will answer the questions that are uniquely yours. See those jars over there. You can use them to collect the butterflies.” Once again, the air filled with the words that became letters that flowed from the woman’s mouth and once again the air was alive with vibrant colors and the soft touches of the butterflies. Then she understood.

She jumped up and grabbed an empty jar and when she did she realized that inside the other jars there appeared to be butterflies but upon closer inspection they were actually letters and those made up words. All at once, there appeared on the shelves suspended in air, books! There were rows upon rows of books that seemed to go on forever. She took the jar and opened it and held it up into the air. It was magical, or so it seemed, as butterflies suddenly flew one after the other into it until it seemed it could hold no more. Then Kyara put the lid back on and as she did, she looked around her to thank the woman, who was ’good with words’, only to find she was gone. As she looked about her, her new-found world seemed to fade.

The next morning Kyara woke and stretched and as she did so she wondered if she had dreamed the world of singing birds, smiling flowers, trees that waved to her and the woman who was ’good with words’. Most of all she wondered if she had dreamed of the butterflies and all their glorious colors for it was there that the woman said she would find her answers. She so wanted it to be true. She glanced at the table beside her bed and saw a stack of books she had never seen before and the most beautiful butterfly she had ever seen was sitting atop it warming itself in the morning sun.

Renee Espriu

This is dedicated to my granddaughter Samantha Paige, whose first name means ‘Listener’ and whose middle name means ‘that which is written upon’ such as those pages found in books or a manuscript or someone who is ‘attendant’. She is sixteen now and has not been in good health for a very long time. She is looking for answers as are the doctors and her mother who attend her. Her mother, my daughter, has Lupus. Both of these young women are strong of heart and hopefully an answer will be found for Samantha soon so she can get on with life. I love them both with all my heart.

I am posting this on the front page of my site but am have also posted a link on my sidebar entitled “Short Stories and Poems For Children and Youth”. I will be posting more writings there in the future.