The Sunflower: A Fable For Single Girls

I had a lovely little analogy just pop into my head this morning while I was thinking of someone I care about.  I cannot think of a more righteous desire than for a young woman wishing to be married.  However, more often than not, girls are left wondering what is wrong with them and struggling with low self-esteem as they see all of the "flowers" getting picked before them.  This fable is for any young women who is longing for marriage and finding themselves let down when the time does not come soon enough.

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There once was an elderly widower who planted a beautiful flower garden each spring.  Rather than keeping this garden hidden in the backyard, he planted the lovely flowers along the sidewalk in his front yard.  This way the people who walked past his home could also enjoy the pretty flowers.

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Towards the end of each long, cold winter, the old widower would begin planting the seeds of each flower he hoped to grow that summer.  These seeds were carefully tended, watered, and placed in front of a sunny window each day until it was warm enough to transplant them outside.  

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Soon enough the time came to transfer his precious little shoots and sprouts to the flower garden outside.  Each small plant was carefully transplanted into their own specific place in the garden.  However, this spring was different.  Instead of putting up his usual "Please do not pick the flowers" sign, the widower decided he would share his prized flowers, even if that meant his garden becoming rather sparse and picked over.  So he put up a big sign that said, 

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It did not take long for the tender plants to grow taller and fuller.  Each day a new leaf or two appeared.  Pretty soon there were buds on the tops of each shoot.  As the days continued to grow warmer and the plants continued to grow taller, word began to spread around the widower's neighbourhood.  This year is different.  This year it's okay to pick a flower if you want.

Like every year before, the Zinnias were among the first to bloom, followed shortly after by the little purple Pansies.  The Black-Eyed Susans didn't take much longer to open, exposing their protruding black middles.  The Marigolds exploded into big blossoms of orange and red.  Pretty soon the garden was a vibrant display of colour and aroma.  However, one flower had still not blossomed.  Its shoot continued to grow taller and thicker, its leaves continued to grow bigger and wider, and the bud, that had still not opened, continued to bulge as it reached for the sky.

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The flowers were desperately excited to be picked.  Each one bloomed as wide and glowed as colourfully as it could in hopes of being the next lucky flower to be plucked off its stem.  As the gentle breeze tossed the flowers lightly about and the birds chirped in the tree tops, it almost seemed as if you could hear hundreds of sing-song voices chanting, "Pick me!  Pick me!  Pick me!"  Even the tall, leafy stalk plant that had not yet blossomed chanted along with the others.

Soon enough their little voices were heard.  Children on their way home picked a flower or two for their mothers.  A couple on a leisurely stroll stopped to admire the flowers and then helped themselves to one.  A mother walking past stopped the stroller and let her small child hop out to pick a flower too.  As the flowers began to disappear one by one, the tall stalk continued to grow taller and taller.  Finally, it blossomed.

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Now I will be picked!  The Sunflower could not contain its excitement.  As each passer-by approached, the Sunflower was convinced it was now its time to be picked.  The Sunflower was certainly noticed, it was even admired and looked at by many people who stopped by the flower garden.  However, the small children could not reach it and left with a flower they could pick closer to the ground instead.  The taller people would lean in close to look at the Sunflower, as if to inspect the centre, yet after a few moments they would step away and choose another flower.

Finally, the much anticipated day came for the Sunflower.  A shady looking young man grabbed the stalk of the Sunflower and pulled it down in order for him to better pull the blossom off the top.  My time has finally come!  It's my turn to be picked!  But the Sunflower was much more difficult to pick than expected.  The young man tugged and pulled, yanked and pinched until suddenly the elderly widower shouted, "Stop it!  Not the Sunflower!  Please don't pick it yet, it's not ready," as he trotted across the front yard, the door still open behind him.  The young man bolted before the widower came any closer, as if he knew what he was doing was wrong in the first place.

"My precious Sunflower, what has he done?  My poor, poor flower."  The widower was heart-broken as he inspected the wounded stalk of the Sunflower.  He went quickly to his garden shed, gathering string and sticks in order to brace the stalk where it had been bent and torn.  However, the Sunflower did not want to heal.

Stupid old man!  What have you done?!  That was my one chance to be picked and now I never will! I will never get to be like all of the other flowers.  How could you do this to me?  Despite the old man's efforts, each day the Sunflower continued to wilt in despair.  Yet the widower would not give up.  He would not let this Sunflower he had worked so hard to grow and tend die so easily.  Each day he retied the braces on the stalk and gave the Sunflower extra water and a bit of fertilizer.  And all the while he spoke softly to the flower as if it could hear him.

"One day you'll be big and strong.  One day you'll be ready to be picked.  You cannot give up now or that day will never come.  Keep growing my Sunflower, keep growing!"

Before long, the Sunflower was strong and healthy again and it continued to grow.  It grew taller and taller and the stalk grew strong and thick.  It seemed as if summer would end before the chance to be picked would come for the Sunflower.  It was almost the only flower left in the garden now.  Then one day, it's centre exploded into thousands of tiny flowers.

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"It is almost time my Sunflower.  It is almost time."

The days began to get shorter and the sun seemed less hot during the day.  Soon the children would be going back to school.  And still the Sunflower had not been picked.  So this is it.  I was planted to not even be picked.  That old man has no idea what he is talking about.  I wish I had never even grown.

During a particularly cold night, the Sunflower became overwhelmed with sadness.  It was all alone.  Summer was over.  And it wept bitterly.  As it wept, the tiny flowers covering its centre began to fall one by one.  Even the large petals surrounding the centre fell off.  As the sun finally began to rise in the morning, the Sunflower had completely given up hope.  Now I will never be picked.  My beautiful blossoms and petals are gone!

When the sun was finally up in the sky, a young man could be seen walking down the street towards the widower's house.  The Sunflower was ashamed and wished he would pass by quickly, however, as he came closer it was obvious he was staring at the petal-less flower.  Much to the Sunflower's surprise, his face lit up with excitement and he walked quickly up to the front door and asked the widower if he could pick the Sunflower.

"Of course!  Thank you for asking."  And with that they both walked down to the Sunflower.

"I was wondering when it would be ripe, it must have happened over night.  I'm so glad this Sunflower lasted all summer, someone tried to pick it before it was ready!"

"That would have been a shame!  I'm so glad this Sunflower can be mine.  I've watched it grow all summer and hoped I would be the one to pick it when the time was right.  Thank you so much."

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And so it was, after months of growing, stretching and tending from the widower, the Sunflower was finally picked.  For if the Sunflower had been picked before this time, it would not have had the chance to ripen fully and produce the hundreds of Sunflower seeds which were enjoyed and appreciated by the young man that picked it.  The End.

Do not be dismayed if your time has not yet come.  Realize that God knows and cares about you, He heals you when you are hurt, and He knows when the time will be right for you to be picked.  Make the most of this time in your life when you are growing and blossoming and ripening for the day to be picked.  The time will come, and it will come when you are ready.

A Picnic At The Park.

I think it might be safe to say that spring is now finally here.  Actually, when you live in Alberta it's probably not safe to say that until the end of May, but a girl can hope can't she?

I got so darn hopeful and excited for spring the other day that I whipped up a little picnic for Jon and I to enjoy at the North Glenmore Park.

I don't usually share recipes on this here blog, but I can't resist passing this one along.  It's so dang easy and delicious, even Jon likes it.  The basic recipe can be found HERE.  I like to think I make mine better though... I found it's cheaper to just use a pre-roasted chicken from a grocery store, no onions, basil or lemon juice, add craisins, and do half and half mayo and coleslaw dressing instead of just mayo.  This makes it a sweeter chicken salad.  SO GOOD.

After eating I wanted to take a half decent picture of Jon and I together, so I manufactured a makeshift camera stand from a croissant and juice box.  Please enjoy my mad skills with a camera timer...

Finally Jon got fed up with my lame attempts and proved that he is a much better camera propper-upper.  I think the lesson to be learned here is that we should consider investing in a tripod.

My Internal Locus of Control

As a kid, whenever I got in trouble, I would do the most logical thing available to me in order to protect myself.  I would put on my most innocent face followed by stating:

"Kassidy made me do it."

or

"It's Hannah's fault."

Yes, Kassidy and Hannah are my younger sisters.  And yes, this made complete sense, even if it wasn't completely Hannah's fault or even if Kassidy didn't actually make me do it.  Without fail, each time I employed these excuses as a means of protection, my mom or dad would explain to me that no one can make me do anything and my actions are not the fault of someone else.  Eventually I learned that I am the only person with the responsibility of claiming the consequences of my actions.  And life went on.  

Then when I got older, whenever I got offended or angry I would justify my seemingly uncontrollable emotions by stating:

"So-and-so made me this angry."

or

"It's this person's fault that I'm so offended."

Again, this way of thinking made complete sense.  In fact, it was better than complete sense, it was obvious that these people were responsible for my emotions.  Without their senseless, offensive, or rude actions there would be no reason for me to feel the way I was.  I understood that I was responsible for my own actions, but since some of my emotions were based on the actions of others, I was not responsible for those.  Fortunately, I had smart parents who again did their best to teach me that my emotions were yet another thing I had complete control of and responsibility over.

By no means am I an expert at controlling my emotions.  I am so far away from perfect that it oftentimes makes me laugh.  Sometimes my emotions will have run so far away from me that it takes a great deal of time to wrangle them back in and discover what actually set them off in the first place.  Yet, regardless of what sets them off, I am the one who gets to choose what my emotions are.

Last week I had an interesting experience in regards to choosing my emotions.  In fact, in a non-proud way, I'm still surprised and impressed with how well I could control my emotions when I made the decision that I would.  It was my mom who let me know that there had been a misunderstanding on my blog.  She was livid and encouraged me to go take a look at it before too long.  Perhaps it was having this warning and short period of time to think before seeing the actions of a stranger that allowed me to control something as intangible and fleeting as the emotion of offence.  Before reading what had been said about me, I made the simple decision to treat this person (and eventually any other person) with kindness and that I would not let the actions of another person control my emotions.  This made for such an interesting growing experience for myself, I'm actually beginning to feel grateful that I was able to pass through a situation like that.

I'm grateful that I could learn my own strength and realize that I do hold the power of controlling my own emotions, even when it may seem impossible.

I'm grateful that I have friends who made it easier to control my emotions by standing beside me and sharing their own kindness with me.

I'm grateful that I have the power to choose and decide things for myself.  Even after all the hubbub, I do not regret the choices I've made and what's even better is, I don't regret how I chose to handle last week.

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Dear Anonymous: A Reply.

I wasn't going to blog today.  I blogged just yesterday, and obviously nobody wants to hear more from me than is necessary because I tend to be incredibly long winded.  But my mind is made up, I need to blog today.  Because I need to address something important.

I, Kristen Ruiz, am the most wretched person on the face of the earth.  I tricked every single one of you in my last post by saying that I had a miscarriage.  Please forgive me for making the shallow mistake of equating a terminated pregnancy to a miscarriage.

You see, since the prognosis of my pregnancy was so poor, I was told that it would eventually end in a miscarriage.  So, I figured I might as well take the doctors advice and terminate things sooner than to deal with a very difficult and potentially harmful miscarriage later.

Today, I speak to you Anonymous.  And to any other woman who feels that I am unjustified in calling a terminated pregnancy a miscarriage.  If you just happen to be reading and plum don't care, allow me to bring you up to date.  

Here is what Miss Anonymous has to say to my last post:

You chose to terminate the pregnancy.  That is NOT a miscarriage.  Your blog used to be really enjoyable to read, but your complete lack of understanding between miscarriage and termination is sickening.  You chose to end your childs life, you did not miscarry.  The way you act as if you are one of millions who have a miscarriage is incredibly insulting to women who truly do have a miscarriage.

And here is what I have to say:

Yes, I chose to terminate my pregnancy.  Although my pregnancy didn't end naturally, I still had to go through the pain and hurt of losing a precious baby.  I went through the unquenchable excitement of seeing a living and moving being on an ultrasound screen, followed quickly thereafter by the news that the life inside of me was very, very ill and it was only a matter of time before it would pass away.

My understanding is that a miscarriage usually occurs before 12 weeks gestation.  This did not happen for me.  Instead, I made it past that mark and had the privilege of beholding a living being.  Is this what disqualifies my experience from being categorized as a miscarriage?

My understanding is that I have the privilege of seeking a second, or third, or even fourth opinion when it comes to making a choice regarding undergoing any type of medical procedure.  So that is what I did.  I asked two ultra sound technicians, two very competent perinatal nurses, two extremely intelligent perinatologists, a counsellor at the women's clinic, and another nurse at the women's clinic if this baby had any chance of making it full term.  I believe that is eight different opinions.  Each one of them told me the same thing: my baby would not make it full term and the best thing I could do would be to terminate the pregnancy.  Do not think for one second that I did not consider and question the morality of terminating a pregnancy.  I believe that life begins at conception and my heart ached when the best thing I could do was to go through a "glorified abortion."  However, I respected each one of these opinions.  In fact, several of the professionals I had more time to speak with reassured me that I was making the best decision possible and that if I was to miscarry further on in the pregnancy I would need a much more difficult procedure performed than the termination.  Is the fact that I got to decide when my pregnancy ended what disqualifies me from claiming to have had a miscarriage?

My understanding is that the ultrasound technician and perinatologist can actually decipher a great deal of information about an unborn baby through the blurry and confusing mess of an ultrasound.  Perhaps you know a lot about Turner's Syndrome, a disorder that often can go full-term, which is why you are so disgusted.  However, for my baby they were also already able to see that it was suffering from heart failure.  It's tiny heart was pumping at an extremely elevated rate.  It's body was beginning to swell and display edema.  In fact, it was even displaying end stage signs of heart failure, the kind of symptoms that an elderly person who has suffered with heart disease for years would display; it's lungs were beginning to fill with a fluid called pulmonary edema.  My poor, precious baby was as ill as a 80 year old man with Heart Disease who had spent his entire life smoking a pack a day and eating McDonalds.  And just like a man like that would eventually end up on life support in an ICU, my baby was on life support too; I was my baby's life support.  And just like the time would eventually come for the family of a very ill man to decide to pull the plug, I was given the choice to do the exact same thing.  And just like the family of the very sick man would weigh all their options and possibilities and eventually come to the decision of doing what was best for this man that they loved, I went through the exact same process of trying to choose what was best for my baby and me.  Is this what disqualifies me from claiming to have suffered a miscarriage?

Last of all, it's my understanding that loss hurts.  Any type of loss.  Whether you're a kid who just lost your pet kitten or a grown woman who just lost her job, loss sucks.  Losing something you held dear and then mourning that loss are probably the most uncomfortable feelings a person will ever encounter in their entire life.  So whether that loss is called "being dumped" or "getting fired" or "having a miscarriage" or "terminating a pregnancy," the fact is you are going through a loss and it hurts really bad.  They're all different words for the same thing.  Loss hurts terribly and my loss was called a terminated pregnancy.  Is having the wrong titled for my loss what disqualifies me from claiming to have suffered a miscarriage?

Dear Anonymous, please forgive my lack of understanding, the understanding I have just presented to you.  I have never, ever in my life composed a post where my main goal was to insult and sicken my readers.  I feel bad that something I wrote to uplift and inspire created such an adverse reaction from you.  However, I am not alone.  Please be aware that the internet is filled with comments and blogs of women who have been through the exact same loss as myself and who also call it a miscarriage.  Are you angry with them as well?

Lastly, I'm sorry for your own loss Anonymous.  I'm guessing you have gone through a miscarriage, or have at least had someone you're close to suffer one.  Since I'm not technically speaking from experience, I can only assume that a miscarriage must be a truly terrible loss to go through.  I'm sorry for your pain and by no means did I mean to discredit it by claiming a terminated pregnancy could hurt as much as a miscarriage.  I'm sad you no longer find my blog enjoyable to read, however, even after your scornful comment, I still find blogging an enjoyable thing to do.  If you wish to continue this conversation, please contact me by email.  I would love to meet you.  

The Best Things That Have Ever Happened To Me: Part IV

Once upon a time I was going to graduate in June 2013, which made July a really great time to have a baby.  So, I got pregnant.  But then, when we finally got to see the baby at the first ultrasound appointment, we learned it was very sick and would not make it full term.  And just like that, I was no longer pregnant.

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How in the world does a girl believably say that having a miscarriage was one of the best things that has ever happened to her?  Three months ago I definitely would not have been able to, and I wouldn't have believed it myself.  Today I still might not be able to convince you that such a tragedy was a valuable experience, but the difference is that I now honestly feel that it was.

The story begins last fall.  I had only been married for a small handful of months, yet I couldn't deny the career path I was beginning to desire.  In fact, I wrote about it for a school assignment which I posted on my blog.  When I thought ahead to my graduation date in June I literally had no desire to begin the normal pursuit after a grown-up job.  So I took this as obviously meaning that I was ready to become a mother.

Before I knew it, all my plans were falling perfectly in to place, there was even a little positive sign on a stick to prove it.  And it was a breeze.  Sure, I felt a little more tired than usual in the evenings, but that was about it.  This pregnancy business was simple simon.

Soon enough, it was that exciting time of the first ultrasound.  But it didn't go as expected.  At all.  

I was suddenly in a bad mood as we sat in the waiting room.  Although we arrived on time, we didn't get called back until nearly an hour after when our appointment was supposed to begin.  The technician never said a single word to us until finally Jon asked her a question.  And most of all, that moving and wiggling grayish blob on the screen had a most unusual white bump coming off of its neck.

We knew something was wrong before we were even told.  

I refused to care.  Whatever.  It wasn't a big deal.  This happened to loads of women!  What made me think I was immune to a miscarriage?  At first it only hurt when people were giving me sympathy.  Then it hurt whenever I thought about it, such as scheduling all the appointments to come.  It hurt a little bit less when we found out what was wrong.  This baby was missing a chromosome.  It had Turner's Syndrome.  Then it started to hurt more when I realized all my dear sweet plans were changing; I wasn't going to graduate in June anymore since I needed to drop some classes.  At last, it hurt the very most when I finally grasped that my opportunity to become a mother was going to be postponed.

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That last hurt was the very worst.  It ached and burned.  It kept me up at night.  And as my heart struggled to repair itself, I learned some valuable things about motherhood.  Some things that I needed to learn before I actually became a mother.

While growing up, I avoided babies and small children like the plague.  Truth be told, they scared me.  To combat my fear of babies, I kept a vast library of "dead baby" jokes memorized so I could laugh away any discomfort.  I was never asked to babysit and I liked it that way.  I figured motherhood was a hobby for women who couldn't figure out what career to pursue, or who simply needed an excuse to stay home all day.  It was never something I longed for or desperately awaited in my own life.  

After getting engaged, I grew to accept that motherhood would inevitably find its way into my life, but not for a long time.  After marrying and making plans for the future, I realized I had no desire to find a job upon graduating, so I figured it was time for motherhood.

I am grateful I had a miscarriage because now I can see how wrong I was in my thinking.  Motherhood is not something to do simply because you don't wish to start a career.  Motherhood is not something to do because you can't think of anything else to do either.  Motherhood is not something to do because everyone expects you to.  And lastly, Motherhood is not something to do because everyone else is doing it.

I'll admit my first pregnancy was just what I needed.  I needed to have something taken away from me so that I could know just how much I wanted it.  I needed to feel how much I wanted to become a mother, and I needed to want Motherhood for the right reasons.  I needed to learn and grow and develop the proper view on Motherhood, like the one this woman shares in one of the most beautiful articles I've ever read.  And lastly, after all my years of telling "dead baby" jokes, I guess it's only fair that a baby played a joke on me. 

Of Gophers and Girls

I took a really fun class this past semester.  It was called "Intro to Writing Fiction" and all we did was just that: we wrote fiction.  Just a short story, nothing too fancy.  Every class was spent critiquing each other's work and giving suggestions to improve our stories.  We ended up writing three drafts and getting to know everyone pretty good too.  It was a fun class.  So, without further ado, I have decided to share my short story.  I'll even add some pictures to make it more visually appealing.  Please enjoy.

Of Gophers and Girls

"So do you think they'll kiss?  You know, like on the mouth?"

"Dang rights.  Jason says Danielle really likes him.  Why else would she have invited him to go with her?" David replied mechanically as he continued to shoot the animated ducks flying across the television screen.

"Oh, right," Nate added sheepishly.  "My turn yet?"

"No, lemme keep going.  I'm on a wicked roll, I've shot like 800 ducks in a row!"

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Although David's family had bought the brand new Nintendo Entertainment System almost a year ago, he continued to play it with the same zeal and vigour as the day it was purchased, just like any other 12 year old boy would.  This frustrated Nate since his parents refused to ever buy a Nintendo and his only opportunities to practice were the odd Friday afternoon he got permission to go over to David's.  Even though Nate was David's best friend, it didn't mean that David was especially good at sharing with him.  Thus, Nate's duck hunting skills were way below average, which is obviously some what embarrassing for an 11 year old boy.

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Fortunately, tonight was a doubly rare opportunity.  Nate's parents had agreed to let him sleep over at David's while they were out of town for his younger sisters' dance competition.  They would be back sometime the next evening, which meant that Nate would be able to play "Duck Hunt" all night, or at least whenever David would finally give him a turn.  Until then, Nate kept himself occupied by asking questions about David's older brother Jason, who was at a youth etiquette dinner being hosted by the local church.

"Why'd Danielle ask Jason to that dinner?  Aren't guys supposed to do the askin'?" When it came to questions of girls and dating, Nate found himself completely lost.  As the oldest sibling to two younger sisters, Nate felt like he was missing out on many vital life lessons that only an older brother could impart.  Fortunately, Jason taught David, who then took it upon himself to pass information on to Nate.

"Yeah, duh, guys are supposed to.  But for some reason the girls had to this time, something about them planning the dinner so they had to ask.  So I guess that's the one time girls do it," David spoke without breaking his gaze from the television screen.

How can he talk and still not miss a single duck?!  As Nate sat patiently pouting, his thoughts turned to ways he could potentially distract David and cause him to miss and lose his turn.  However, before anything solid came to his mind, Nate's scheming was distracted by his curiosity as to why David had started to chuckle under his breath.  "What's so funny?"

With eyes still locked on the screen, David replied, "Did I tell you how Danielle asked Jason?  She had to do it in a weird way."

"No, how?"

"Well, she went all the way to the city and bought this big, ol' goldfish with a nice bowl and everything.  Then she put a sign on it that said something like, 'Of all the fish in the sea, I choose you to go to the dinner with me.'"

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Instead of finding this funny and chuckling like David, Nate only found himself even more confused.  Before he could ask David why she had to invite Jason that way, David continued, "And then Jason had to answer her, of course, to say yes."  Before he could continue with his story, David's chuckling began to turn into a hiccupping laugh that interrupted him every other sentence.  "He took that fat goldfish and cooked it!! ...  He fried it in a pan 'til there was no gold left and put it on a plate!  ...  And then gave it to Danielle with a note that said ... that said, 'Consider it done, well done,'" By now David couldn't stop himself from laughing, and Nate couldn't stop himself from noticing that David was starting to get sloppy with his duck hunting, until - 

Yes!  Finally!

"Ahhh, man!  I missed!"  said David as he finally relinquished the coveted gun controller.  With one last chuckle, he concluded, "And she liked it.  She liked the cooked fish.  Jason said she had these little tears in her eyes from laughin' so hard.  She thought it was so funny."

Had he not been completely focussed on starting his turn, Nate may have been startled to hear that Danielle liked his reply.  Two months ago his youngest sister's pet fish died and she had cried when they flushed it down the toilet.  But Nate wasn't listening, let alone thinking about girls and fish now.  His turn had finally come and he wanted to play just as many games in a row as David did, or maybe even more.  Unfortunately, before he could even shoot five ducks Nate was startled by the loud noise made by the front door as it slammed shut.

"You missed!  It's my turn again!" David shouted with glee, clearly not phased by the slamming door or the fact that Nate hadn't even finished one round.  Before David could steal back the controller and start a new game, Jason was marching through the living room on his way down to his basement bedroom.  The game suddenly lost all of its appeal as the younger boys stared up at the returned hero.

What Jason lacked in maturity and intelligence, he made up for with his over abundant confidence and the fact that he had been shot.  Yes, shot.  Last summer Jason had made a sport out of "nickying" Old Man Tilleman's house until finally Tilleman had lost it and shot Jason in the butt with a pellet gun as he ran from the front porch for the last time.  As unglamorous as a pellet in the butt is, Jason instantly became a hero in the eyes of every boy in town, since the entire town knew what had happened before the pellet had even been extracted from his behind.  Even the girls in town began showing him more attention, as if he was a poor wounded soldier returned home from a war.  Instead of becoming the "butt of a joke," Jason become a type of role model to Nate and David and they looked up to his 14 year old wisdom as if it were the word of God.

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As Jason turned to go down the stairs, David stopped him by shouting, "Hey!  D'you kiss her?"

Jason slowly stopped and turned around chuckling to himself, "You babies have so much to learn 'bout girls."

"Like what?" Nate's face turned pale as soon as he said it, even before David and Jason turned to stare at him.  He couldn't believe he had spoken to, let alone challenged, Jason like that. 

Fortunately, as soon as Jason realized what Nate was asking, he gained his composure and retorted, "Well, like how to make them even like you in the first place."

By now, David was both curious and interested too. “How d'you do that?”

“Well, you gotta, uhh, give them presents and stuff.” Had either Nate or David known better, they would have realized how much Jason had strained himself to answer that question as he shuffled back and forth. Fearing that his grasp on controlling the situation and appearing cool to the younger boys was slipping, Jason quickly spit out, “And if you babies would just lemme get back to my business, I could show you how tomorrow.”

“Really?” Both David and Nate chirped in surprise simultaneously.

“Yeah.” Before the younger boys could ask another question, Jason slinked down the stairs and out of sight.

“What d'you think he'll show us?” Nate hadn't expected to get such results with his impulsive question.

“I dunno,” David solemnly replied, keeping his talking to a minimum because he remembered how it had made him lose his turn last time. He too was taken aback by his brother's generous offer, but at the moment “Duck Hunt” trumped his thoughts.

For the first time that evening, a silence settled in on David and Nate. While David robotically shot the ducks, Nate sat back on the couch and began to daydream of the girl wanted to “make” like him tomorrow. He knew right off the top of his head that he wanted to win the heart of his cute next door neighbour, Stacy. Although he didn't know much about girls, Nate was convinced Stacy was perfect. Not only was she the prettiest girl in his class with her curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, she was also by far the smartest person in their entire sixth grade class. He knew she had a pretty singing voice too because he had stood in front of her during their fifth grade Christmas concert. What he liked best about her though was how nice she was to his little sisters. Even though his sisters were annoying and seemed to get him into a lot of trouble, he was secretly grateful for them because they increased his opportunities of seeing Stacy. In fact, all last summer Stacy would come over to invite his sisters to come play at her house. Obviously Nate was never invited, girls didn't play with boys, and besides, he had chores to do. As much as he hated weeding the garden, it was his favourite chore because he could hear Stacy and his sisters playing in her backyard and occasionally peak through the fence to catch a glimpse of Stacy.

+

“Noooo! I made it so far! Did you see how many ducks there were?!” Nate jumped as David shouted, waking him from his daydream. Just as suddenly, Jason stomped back up the stairs, startling Nate yet again. He had changed into some dark and grubby clothes and had on a backpack that clinked with each step. It was obvious that he was on his way out again and up to something.

“Where're you going?” David said, interrogating his older brother.

“Don't worry 'bout it. I'll see you two tomorrow.” And with that Jason turned to leave and could be heard crossing the house until he slammed the front door.

* * *

After a long and boring morning spent waiting for Jason to wake up, the boys now found themselves standing in the middle of a field full of gopher holes on the outskirts of town. Neither one of them wanted to risk looking stupid in front of Jason by asking why they were there. Yet, neither one of them could put the pieces together and were more confused now about girls than they had ever been before. Since leaving the house, the afternoon had been a series of strange events, one right after the other. First Jason made them find a roll of thick string in the dusty and cluttered garage, and then right before leaving he told David to grab the two crumpled pink Easter baskets beside the old purring deep freeze. Next, Jason led them to a field two blocks from their house, but after seeing there were hardly any gopher holes they needed to go somewhere else. Now here they were, two hours later in the middle of a field outside the old and quiet, dead side of their little town.

+

Finally, David snapped. “Jason what're we doing?! You haven't said anything, if you're just playing a trick on us I'm gunna tell everyone what you made me swear not to! I'm getting tired ---”

“Shhhh!! I'm looking for gophers!!” Jason spat out in a sharp whisper.

“But what d'we need gophers for?” David asked in a whisper that matched Jason's.

Finally Jason broke out of his concentrated trance and began to explain what he figured was obvious. “We're gunna snare them you big baby!”

“But how does that have anything to do with girls!?” David exclaimed.

“Well, girls like little kittens right? And gophers are small like kittens. So obviously any girl would love to have a pet gopher. So we're gunna catch some gophers and then give them to your girls.”

+

Although Jason seemed to display firm logic in reasoning why any girl would love to have a pet gopher, Nate initially felt a bit unsure. He had heard his dad talking before about how gophers are vermin and should all be killed. But then he suddenly remembered how much his sisters had loved that stray cat they found in their backyard a couple months ago. In fact, even Stacy liked that cat when his sisters had brought it over to show her. After putting these pieces together, Nate was confident and excited to see the look on Stacy's face when he handed her her very own pet gopher.

David seemed convinced too and began to roll out two long sections of string which Jason then cut with his pocket knife. Neither David or Nate had snared gophers before so Jason had to tie their snares. As they watched his quick and skillful hands tie the snare, David noticed the thin red scratches covering Jason's hands and forearms.

“What'd you do to your hands?”

Just as he finished tying the second snare, Jason mumbled, “Don't worry about it,” and threw the carefully knotted string into David's face. “It was just a stupid chicken.”

Before David could continue questioning his older brother, Jason told the boys to shut up and gave them a quick snaring demonstration. It looked easy enough and after a couple practices the boys scanned the field looking for the most active holes. With so many holes to pick from, it didn't take long to pick out two that had just had a gopher scurry in. As quietly and quickly as possible, Nate and David trotted over to their holes, set up the snare and then laid on their stomachs a foot or two away from the hole. It was exciting for the boys to be catching gophers like this; however, after half an hour of sitting perfectly still in complete silence, they began to get bored. Fortunately, that half an hour of silence paid off. Shortly after the negative thoughts of giving up began to creep into their heads, David and Nate were both able to secure a gopher of their own.

+

“Jason, I think you're right! Besides their ugly teeth, I think any girl would love to have a little pet gopher!” David grinned as he took a close look at the terrified and whistling critter.

Jason then explained that the baskets were for the gophers to be tied into so they looked even more presentable. Once the gopher was all tied in and cute, the next step was Jason's signature hobby: placing their gopher gift on the front step of the girls house, ringing the door bell, and then running away.

“Lucky for you guys, Old Man Tilleman had his pellet gun taken away after shootin' me. And he doesn't even have any girls.” Jason added, matter of factly.

As the boys walked back in to town with their prize gophers, David quickly discovered that it was fun to give his gopher the occasional swing. Since the gophers were still cinched tight at the neck where the snare had caught them, it was a lot like walking a dog on a leash, except the gophers didn't lead and they kind of had to be dragged along. Whenever the gophers were given enough freedom, they would try to scurry away, only to be quickly pulled back to their place. By swinging the gopher, David realized that he no longer had to deal with it trying to run away, and besides, it looked really funny to see a little gopher swinging through the air on the end of a string. As the boys continued to laugh harder and louder at David's gopher as it sailed higher and higher through the air, in a brainless moment, David decided to swing his gopher in a complete 360, like the blades of a windmill.

“Careful!” Nate gasped, while Jason and David continued to roar with laughter. David sensed Nate's concern and, setting his gopher down, stooped down to check it.

“Crap! I think it's dead,” David stammered, “I didn't mean to kill it! We have to go back so I can get another one!”

Still laughing, Jason replied, “Heck no! I'm not goin' back there! That's way too boring and you take forever to catch them. Let's just do Nate's gopher today and do yours another day.”

“No! You made us wait forever this morning! And it's your fault my gopher is dead cause you made me swing it like that!” David growled and shouted at Jason, surprising Nate.

Rather than fighting back, Jason turned to begin walking home, which only made David more angry.

“I'm telling everyone! I don't even care! Either you come help me catch another gopher or I'm telling everyone that you wet the hotel bed that we had to share when we went to Disneyland!”

Before David had even finished revealing Jason's secret, Jason had turned around and was running at David with a look of burning anger in his eyes. In a matter of seconds, Jason had tackled David and was proceeding to punch and wrestle him on the ground. Nate didn't know what was scarier, seeing Jason lose control and proceed to beat David up or hearing David's shouts and screams for help. Nate had never seen anything like this before. Fighting with his siblings was strictly prohibited, in fact, Nate was pretty sure if he was ever caught hitting one of this sisters his dad would literally kill him. Looking down at his gopher and then back at David, Nate realized there was only one thing he could do to try and save his friend's life, because he was sure Jason was about to kill David.

+

“Stop! Jason stop! Jason!” Nate yelled as he scooted closer to the fighting brothers, eventually giving Jason a little shove to make him snap out of his rage.

Jason stopped and looked up with wild eyes, his hands frozen mid-hit just inches above David's arms shielding his head.

“David can have my gopher. We don't need to go back. I don't need one.”

As the words slowly settled into Jason's mind, he shifted off of David and got to his feet. After brushing himself off, Jason turned to go home, only getting a few steps away before turning back to yell with a fist held high, “Don't you DARE tell anyone else!” And with that, he walked away.

* * *

Crouching inconspicuously behind a large bushy hedge, David wrapped up the finishing touches on the gopher he was about to leave on the front step of the yellow bungalow a few houses down.

“Thanks Nate, I really owe you one,” David said, looking up and smiling at his friend.

“Whatever, I figured you needed a gopher more than me. And I didn't want you to die,” Nate replied. A few short moments later, David stood up to show Nate the very presentable and cute gopher in a pink Easter basket.

“Well, I guess this is it. Wait, how is she gunna know it's from me?”

Nate had never even thought of that, but in an effort to help his friend out, he spit out the first idea that came to his head. “She's probably not supposed to know at first. I think that way she can have a couple days to play with the gopher and name it and stuff. Then when she loves it and is happy someone gave it to her then you can tell her at school it was from you.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. Well, wish me luck.” And with that, David jogged over to the house of the girl he had a crush on while Nate waited behind.

Before a minute had even passed, David was sprinting back to the hedge for cover.

“How did it go?” Nate asked his friend.

David took a second to catch his breath and then replied, “Really good. But I don't know if anyone is even home. It didn't look like it.”

“Should we take a quick peak just to see if they got it?”

“Yeah, but just me. Just in case she sees me because I don't want her to think the gopher was from you.”

Carefully, David crawled around the corner of the hedge to peer back at the house he had just run from. His reaction was not what Nate expected. As quickly as he had peaked, David gasped and flung himself back behind the hedge with a look of pure mortification in his eyes. Rather than trying to ask David what was wrong, Nate crawled around him and peered around the hedge. He could not believe his eyes. Slowly yet surely, the gopher was scurrying across the front lawn towards the road with the pink basket in tow bouncing and dragging behind it. Not knowing what to do, Nate flung himself back behind the hedge. By this time David had gained a small amount of composure and squeaked out, “What d'we do?”

Even the though the street and neighbourhood were quiet and dead, Nate figured they were bound to get caught and punished for catching a gopher and nickying a house. Without even answering David's question, Nate jumped to his feet and began sprinting as far as possible from that rogue gopher that proved he had been up to know good. David jumped up just as quickly and caught up to Nate in a few strides.

A few minutes later, the boys found themselves three blocks away where they collapsed under a big shady oak tree. After several minutes spent catching their breath and taming their nerves, David said, “I knew it! I should have tied the gopher to both sides of the handle. That way it wouldn't have been able to get out and run away.”

All Nate could do was sigh in reply. By now, Nate had lost all interest in this getting girls to like him business and simply wanted to go home. He felt tired from staying up so late the night before, hungry since missing lunch, and embarrassed to admit he felt mad at David. David has ruined everything! He hardly let me play Duck Hunt, killed his stupid gopher, got in a fight with Jason and almost died, and then didn't even tie MY gopher in good enough for him to get his girl!

In order to keep David from seeing his anger, Nate stood up and said, “I'm gunna go home now.”

“Don't you wanna wait 'til your parents get home? What about your stuff at my place?”

“No. I know where a key is and I'll just have them drive me over to get it sometime tonight after they get home.”

“Oh, alright,” David replied obliviously. “I would walk home with you, but my house is in the opposite direction.”

“That's fine,” Nate said as he started to shuffle away from David in the direction of his house.

“Thanks again for the gopher.”

As Nate glumly walked down the sidewalk towards his house, he found kicking rocks to be a good way to deal with his disappointment. While consumed in his thoughts and kicking each rock harder than the one before, Nate failed to hear the steadily growing sound of someone walking up behind him.

“Oh! Nate, is that you?”

Nate glanced up and was surprised out of his skin to see Stacy walking beside him.

“Hey! What's the matter? You look pretty down about something,” Stacy said energetically.

“Oh, no, I'm okay -”

“I had a tough day today too,” Stacy interrupted. This was perfectly fine with Nate, since he would much rather do the listening. His tongue was suddenly tied. He found himself staring at her perfect poofy hair, wondering how she made her bangs stand up so high and the rest of it wave so tightly. As he felt himself slipping away into thinking of how pretty she was, Stacy said something that caught his attention and snapped him out.

“What?”

“There was a chicken in the library! I couldn't believe it either this morning, but when I showed up for my volunteer shift it was in there. It was awful too. The poor thing was so scared and had pooped and molted its feathers all over the library. Usually it's my job to sort books and read to kids, but today I had to help catch the chicken and then clean up the mess that it made. I can't think of anything worse than wiping up chicken poo and picking up feathers. I'm so glad I'm done. Who would do that to a poor chicken anyways? The librarian says that they must have shoved it in through the book drop off in the door. She was so mad she spent the entire day calling around to find someone to install a smaller drop off slot so that it can't happen again. She called it a travesty,” Stacy chattered on quickly, unaware of the sudden spark in Nate's eye, followed again by him slipping away into his own thoughts.

That's why he had scratches all over his hands!

“Are you listening to me?” Stacy stopped, facing Nate.

“Yes! Yes, of course. Sorry,” Nate said quickly, coming back from his thoughts and resuming his walk home beside Stacy.

+

“Oh, okay. Yeah, it makes me so sad when poor animals get picked on for fun and pranks. In fact, just a few days ago my cousin Danielle had to ask a boy to that church etiquette dinner. She asked him with a cute little goldfish, she just gave it to him. And then, to answer her for the dance, he killed it!! He fried it up and then gave it back to her with some dumb saying that was supposed to mean yes. Danielle was so sad, she cried and cried, but my aunt still made her take that boy to the dinner, because she had to have good manners. I hope that never happens to me. I would hate a boy forever if he hurt an animal to be funny or get my attention.”

Nate found himself slipping even further into his thoughts this third time after listening to what Stacy had to say. He simply couldn't believe his ears, or his good luck for that matter. He had almost just given her a gopher and ruined everything!

Stacy didn't seem to mind Nate's silence this time and appeared to be lost in her own thoughts as well. When Nate looked up from his shoes he couldn't believe they were already standing outside Stacy's house.

“It was nice to walk home with you Nate. Bye!” And just like that their walk home together was over.

Nate couldn't help but watch Stacy walk away for just a second or two before taking the last few steps to his own house. Finally, he started towards home but was stopped by someone calling his name.

“Nate. Nathan!” Stacy's mom was standing on the front steps with the door wide open behind her. “Nate, do you want to come over for dinner tonight? We're having a barbeque in the backyard.”

After quickly grasping what this meant for him, Nate glanced at Stacy first before answering. She had stopped in her front yard and was looking back at him with a big smile on her face.

“Yeah. Thanks!” Nate replied with an equally big smile on his face as he started to walk towards Stacy.

“I'm glad you said yes,” Stacy whispered once Nate got close enough, “I was going to ask you, but I got too scared. I'm glad my mom did instead.”