The Poetess and the Pea
A light story about important life lessons
It was a cold night and the family was gathered in front of a roaring fire in the old stone fireplace. The light of the dancing flames illuminated a smallish living area in the old family cabin. The logs had turned a rich, deep brown almost dark enough to be mistaken for coffee. Bright rag rugs added color to the wooden floor, which had been scrubbed over its long lifetime to a smooth, warm light brown. An heirloom kerosene lamp sat on the ancient wooden table to the right of the fireplace, adding it’s golden light to the atmosphere.
Grandma sat in her old rocker, just as she had most evenings of her adult life. Her husband Bill died many years ago, but still lent his influence to the room. His old rifle hung over the mantle and Grandma wore his old bed slippers, just to keep a bit of him alive in her now normally rather lonely life.
But for this wonderful week her life was blissfully full of people and activity. The grandkids had come for a visit with their parents, her classy, good looking son James and his lovely wife Lily. Their three handsome and lively kids sat surrounding Grandma on old wooden stools and their parents sat in chairs close by, murmuring quietly together about vacation plans.
Billy, the oldest child at 10, with his father’s dark hair and mother’s fair skin and ready laugh sat next to Grandma’s left. A bit of a scamp, Billy often got his two sisters into trouble along with him. Julie, the oldest girl, had her mother’s complexion and blond hair with a bit of her dad’s natural curl. She sat next to Grandma on the right. Annie, the baby of the family, sat beside her sister and took after her father with his slightly square face and dark curly hair.
“Please tell us a story, Grandma,” 6-year-old Annie begged. Grandma sighed with contentment. It was so lovely having her family all here with her for these few, too quickly disappearing days.
“Alright, dear. Now let me see. Oh yes, let me tell you the story of an old friend who writes poetry,” as she prepared to carry on the age-old tradition of storytelling by the fire. She settled back in her chair and rocked slowly.
“Bismi…,” She started, “I mean In the name of God. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, a poetess lived with her three cats in a small cottage not far from here,” she began.
“Grandma, why do you start everything that way?” Julie interrupted.
Grandma hesitated. How much should she try to tell them? She wanted these lovely children to at least know about their father’s Muslim roots, but she did not want to lecture them. They were basically being raised as agnostics in a Christian society and she was afraid she would confuse them. So she replied, “That is the way I was taught to begin everything when I was a child in Egypt. We learned that we need to always think about our Creator. Now please stop interrupting or I won’t be able to finish the story before your bedtime.
“Where was I? Oh yes, Once upon a time a lovely princess…”
“You said she was a poetess, Grandma,” Billy crowed.
“I said not to interrupt, Billy. But you are right, I guess I’m a bit addlebrained these days,” she replied with a smile for her favorite grandchild who reminded her so much of her dear Bill, for whom Billy was named.
“OK, so anyway this poetess, had just finished writing a poem about the Princess and the Pea, and here is the story of what happened next:”
The Saga Of The Princess And The Pea
“Oh my”, the young poetess said, “I am delighted with this poem. But I need to get a nice green pea-pod to illustrate it. Let me check in that little corner grocery store just down the road.”
So she grabbed her walking stick and walked briskly down the hill to the little grocery store at the crossroads. There she looked high and low. She saw some lovely tomatoes, and picked up a few. Then she looked at the green vegetables. Getting more and more agitated she realized that there were no peas in or out of pods anywhere to be found. She found avocados, and squash and lettuce, but no peas of any form.
She started looking for someone who could help her. Finally she found a young man, “Hello, do you have any nice green pea-pods that I can take a picture of to illustrate a poem I’ve just finished?”
“No Mam,” he replied courteously. “Could you use some green beans or avocado’s?”
“Avocados!” she exclaimed in distress. “Are you an idiom — I mean idiot?” she sputtered.
“What do you want me to do, be a Princess and the Pita?” she almost sobbed.
“Only trying to help. You don’t have to be abusive,” he replied.
“Me abusive? How dare you call me abusive, you little pipsqueak!” By now her voice boomed out threateningly. “Why I could beat you senseless, you idiot,” she cried raising her walking stick threateningly.
Fortunately someone else walked into the small store and the tinkling of the door’s bell snapped her out of her building rage.
Still explosive she stomped out of the store with her bag of tomatoes and her stick. Slowly she simmered down as her pace also began to slow. Suddenly she heard, “Stop thief. Stop in the name of the law.”
Totally confused she turned around only to see a young policeman pointing his gun at her. “Officer, whatever are you talking about?” she blurted out.
“You threatened the grocery store owner and walked off with a bag of tomatoes without paying for them,” came the stern reply. “Now the owner wants to press charges. Please show me your id and get into the back of my squad car.”
“But officer, surely you can see that there has been a big mistake. I just got upset back there and forgot to pay for the tomatoes. I didn’t intend to walk off with them. As for the store keeper, he is an idiot and I got a bit upset with him, but I didn’t really mean to strike him.”
“Sorry, mam, but there is no help for it. You have to come down to the station.”
“But officer, I am innocent. There was no real crime committed. How about I give you a little something to help you forget this whole unfortunate incident?” she pleaded reaching toward her purse.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” the young officer barked. “You do realize that you just tried to bribe an officer of the law, don’t you?” Then he paused a moment and commanded, “Turn around,” as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
“Oh no, I didn’t mean to offend you at all,” she gulped. “I only thought….” Her voice trailed off as it dawned on her that the more she said the worse she made it. She turned and let him snap the cuffs on. Dejected, she slid into the back of the car.
When they got to the station she did as she was told and kept her mouth shut. The officer read her rights to her. She called her lawyer who had just left for Spain and would call back. Or so his receptionist said. In the mean time she was stuck behind bars.
Once in her cell she sank to her knees. “Please, God, Allah, help me,” she pleaded. “I clearly need to learn how to curb my tongue and my anger. Now here I am behind bars, caged like some alien kid.” She lay down with the tears rolling down her cheeks.
Eventually her lawyer got her out, but not before she learned that she really needed to get some help, and definitely needed to turn to God much more.
“And that’s the end of the story. Ok kids time for bed,” Grandma finished.
Dutifully and unusually quiet they each kissed her on the cheek, said good night to their parents and off they went to bed. Their parents soon followed, the whole family tired from unaccustomed activity in natural surroundings.
But Grandma stayed rocking in her chair thinking about those dark days and how much better life felt now that she could control her temper and keep God more in focus. “I may be addlebrained now,” she thought. “But it is a great deal better than the smoldering volcano of my past.”
“Kingdoms might have been lost for want of a nail, but I almost lost it all over the lack of a pea. My temper almost made pea soup out of me!”
The clock struck 11:00 and off she went to bed chuckling at her old foolishness.
