70. Jessa and the Beanstalk (4)

Four days of clear skies had me anxious and miserable. I yearned to know if cloudy skies would herald the return of my wonderland. But finally on the fifth day the clouds began to gather once again. As I worked my mother's fields I kept my eyes toward the great boulder that marked my freedom. Would my ladder rise? Or was my adventure ended long before I was ready? In agony I waited, watching the sky darken slowly. Oh, so slowly. 

But then, I saw it. Above the tops of the corn rows, my green escape rose. It crept higher and higher and higher until it disappeared among the clouds. My mother beside me took no notice of it, as if it wasn't even there. It was my beanstalk. Only mine.

I tiptoed away from my mother, backing as quietly as I could into the yellow fields. When I was certain she could no longer see me, I ran. 

I flew through the close fields, tearing leaves and stalks as I ran, but I didn't care. I didn't care if I was scratched or bruised or torn. I didn't care if I looked wild. My kingdom was calling.