Fairy Gifts

Two girls' friendship originates and is honored in their make believe world, viewed by their anonymous caretaker. Originally written 2013

She was kneeling at the hollowed out tree stump like she was praying at an altar, only her hands were not clasped in prayer but instead were covering her face as tears cascaded down her cheeks. In the fading light of dusk, the long shadows of the surrounding trees obscured the quivering of her stooped shoulders, but it could not muffle the sound of her desperate half-choked shrieks. I'd hoped the magic of the fairies would soothe her grieving heart, but no imaginative power could assuage her pain this time. Death had a way of overriding juvenile fantasies and forcing people to face the starkness of reality. I too mourned the loss of Sueanne's best friend, but today, I also mourned the loss of her childhood. Sueanne and Emily had been like sisters since the summer Sueanne's family moved here. They were both seven at the time, and their families lived on either side of my land. They used to cross through my property where I had cultivated a small pecan orchard. I discovered them one day as little specks in the distance running like thieves through a forest, and I went out to scare them off my land. But when I reached my pecan grove, I was transfixed by the laughter of these two little sprites, hosting a tea party in a tiny little glen under the canopy of the tall pecan trees. When I'd planted the trees 30 years ago, there had been a single gnarled tree there with a hollowed out trunk. I cut it down to make room for the pecans, leaving a circular band of distance between the old stump and the new trees which later became a type of fairy ring for the girls. I was so entranced by their innocent chatter that I didn't have the heart to disturb them. Their play took me back to the days of my own little girl having tea parties in the yard. The little tree stump's alcove served as their treasure box, and they would store all kinds of trinkets there. I would sometimes wander down to the glen and watch them from a good distance among the trees, reveling in the musical lilting of their tender voices. Today's society would think I was a creepy pervert, spying on young girls, but I was really only breathing in the sweetness of youth. It made my old savage heart swell with a song of rebirth. They were like nymphs in my yard, adding light and mirth to my home. The girls would come and play often in my little glen, a world of make believe all their own. With each passing year, the girls continued to meet there, but the trinkets they stored in the tree trunk reflected their maturing age. Instead of beads, stickers, and plastic rings, they stashed magazine clippings, pictures of boys,and real jewelry in their secret cache. As they were merging into adolescence, I felt I needed to allow them their privacy. But when they had a tiff and tore each others treasures into pieces, throwing their belongings at each other and stomping on them, my heart broke as I heard them say through angry tears that they hated each other. When they both stormed off to their respective homes, I walked to the earthen sanctuary, saddened by the shattered dreams of little girls strewn about the damp loamy floor of their fairyland. At first, I thought the girls would make up and return, but as the weeks turned into months, the glen remained untouched. One evening, when I came back to see if the girls had returned, I noticed a fresh crop of mushrooms in a perfect circle around the hollow stump. I had never before seen the phenomenon in real life, but in my eavesdropping, I'd learned that mushrooms were known to grow in a circle to mark the path made by fairies dancing in a ring. And lo, I beheld tiny little lights blinking softly in the waning evening light. Their make believe fairy ring was real and the little sprites were beckoning the girls back to their realm! It was as if the souls of Sueanne and Emily lingered in my glen. I was overwhelmed with the desire that they share in this amazing splendor, but I was at a loss as to how I could reunite them. And then I heard a rustling in the trees. At first, I thought it was just the gentle breeze I felt stir around me, but then I saw little tiny lights in the distance. Something told me I was intruding on sacred turf, and I was compelled to leave the magical glen. I was partway out of my pecan grove when I turned back and beheld the beautiful Sueanne picking her way through the trees to stop mid-stride at the sight of the fairy ring. The twinkling fairies had guided her back, the air's soft breath coaxing her along. Her hand to her mouth, Sueanne didn't even see Emily emerge from the other side of the thicket. Little fireflies masquerading as fairies flitted in and out of the miniature enchanted meadow. When Sueanne and Emily caught sight of each other, they flew into each others arms, and I knew their friendship had been rekindled in that instant. My heart swelled with joy at the sight. They were now teenagers but their belief in fairy lights and fanciful realities had not completely vanished. It was then that I decided to nurture that notion. Although Sueanne and Emily's visits to my glen grew less frequent as they entered upon their high school years, I never failed to hide a little treasure for them in their secret stump, whether it was a pair of friendship bracelets, a note of encouragement scrawled on parchment, my late wife's diamond earrings, or a jar of raspberry pecan preserves. Some might say I was encouraging naivete, or that I was interfering with private relationships. But I'd like to think I was keeping watchful care over my own little girls. I often wondered if they suspected me, but they never left any hint that they did. Today, my little Sueanne, now nearly grown at 17, was not consoled by the fairy gift I left. It wasn't much. Just a jar of two little fireflies I'd caught the night before when I'd heard the news of Emily's accident. I stood there, hidden in the shadows of the tall pecan trees, my heart aching for Sueanne's pain. I was powerless to help her when even the magic of fairy salve could do nothing for her. Feeling like I was intruding upon intimate solitude, I turned to leave. Sueanne must have heard the snap of the twig under my boot, for she whirled around, startled. Somehow, she spotted me. "Mr. Oberon?" she said suspiciously. I froze, guiltily. "Thank you," she said simply. That was all. And I walked away, knowing I had, after all, made her fairy world real. Sueanne continued to come to the little clearing in my pecan orchard. But instead of collecting my little gifts, she left them in the hollowed out stump instead.