158. Haiku to Packing

Crease the close-knot cloth

Ever into smaller squares

Tidiness is key

157. My Brother's Nose

My dear big brother, I love you,

I lit'rally look up to you.

I touch your face to show my love

When up your nose my fingers shove.

Because your nose is warm and nice

It does my curiosity entice.

You pull away; I think it's fun.

And so you hit me 'cause you're done.

But still I think you're pretty great,

That's why your boogers I just ate.

156. The Raven

My, my, 

how does the raven fly

Over the mountains

Across the sky

Why does he try, the raven shy?

Why does the raven fly?

155.I Am The Lone Amalekite

When I heard that the King's sons were in the land, I marveled at their audacity. Our people had made our position clear. Our fathers left the Nephite traditions behind them. We scorned them. They were outdated and simple, the ideals of times past. We had moved on to better lives, better purposes. And here they were again, begging for us to come back to them. My father scoffed. My brothers scoffed. And I scoffed. 

I went to hear their preaching with my brothers, not because we expected them to change our minds, but because we wanted to show them the errors of their ways. Of course. The law forbade any physical abuse to them, but it said nothing about embarrassing them. We arrived with our dungheaps and our ale. I was no better than anyone there. 

But I was caught by surprise. I was raised to believe Mosiah was a heathen, that his sons were simpletons, fit only to spout the lies of the ancients. And yet, I saw in them myself. When Aaron spoke, I heard the words of my grandmother's stories. She only ever spoke them when we were alone, grinding the meal from the maize. She spoke of a mighty creator, a savior for all mankind. And Aaron described the same. 

I could not throw the dung.

I said nothing until we returned home. Clearly none of my brothers knew or remembered the stories that grandmother shared. I waited, listening, hoping someone would speak kindly of the Nephites' words. But there was nothing but coarseness and disgust. There was talk of traps, or ambushes and midnight beatings. When talk became plans I knew I could wait no longer. 

As the sun began to rest, I set out to find the princes. I could not stop my brothers, but I could warn these men away from the destruction that awaited them, even if it meant my own disgrace.

I ran to Aaron and his brothers. They listened to my words and heeded me. Before the gates were sealed, they were gone. But I was discovered and the evil energy reserved for the sons of Nephites was laid on me. I was kicked, pummeled, stoned, spat upon, dragged, and thrown. Thankfully my mind closed itself before my brothers finished delivering my punishment. My last thought, my dying hope, was that by seeing to the safety of the Lord's messengers, I might be granted mercy and forgiveness for my own foul trespasses. 

I simultaneously rejoiced and despaired when I woke again. How I came to be outside the city walls, I know not. Every part of me ached. I slept and woke, slept and woke. I felt the presence and pecking of many fowl, but was fortunate that no larger predator braved to wander so near our population. For two days I rested at the edge of the forest, waiting either to die or to live. Finally, my desperation for what overcame the pain in my limbs and I dragged myself into the thick of the forest, following the paths of woodland creatures to a pool of fresh water. I drank and I slept. 

I awoke again to my own scream and the pain that seared through my foot. Instantly the pain abated, but throbbed with every passing second. Quick hands cleaned and bandaged the freshly flowing blood from my leg. Herbed water poured into my mouth, bringing sweet relief in the form of more sleep.

I woke again and found my wounds were cleaned, an unfamiliar cloak spread over me. Voices whispered urgently behind me. I turned to discover the source and found two men, Nephites by apparel, crouched before a fire. One looked to me and saw me watching. The whispers ceased immediately and the man came to my side and looked over my bandaged wounds. He asked me if I hungered and then he, Aaron, the eldest son of the Nephite king, fed me broth as if I were his precious child. He cared for me until I was able to travel. I later learned that he had sent his party on ahead to safety in the land of Ishmael while only he and Adoni stayed to care for me, an Amalekite of low birth. When my injuries permitted, we traveled on, the two great Nephites half-carrying me in turns until we arrived at the great house of Anti-Nephi-Lehi. 

There I stayed, cared for and nursed to full health by the medicine man to the great Lamanite king. As I recovered, Aaron and his brothers taught me the remainder of the truth of God. They gladly shared in whole with me the stories and truths that my grandmother feared to share and so only gave pieces. Now, I know.

My friendship with Aaron has remained steady and strong through the trials that my father's people have caused to us. Though I was an Amalekite by birth, I am one of the people of Ammon by choice. In my heritage I am alone, but in my inheritance, I am one of thousands.

154. Fresh Bread

Flour is bland, powdery, white.

Water just emptiness.

Milk and butter, the staples of life

Salt and sugar a mess.

None alone have scent very strong,

Nothing to write home about.

But put them together and what do you get?

A heavenly scent for your snout.

153.Hair Today, Where Tomorrow

Strong Samson fell without his mane, deceived by one in dresses.

Rapunzel could not lift her prince without her silky tresses.

Would Goldilocks be bold enough without her golden locks?

Would fair Snow White with hair pale brown still sit there darning socks?

What of the hair makes heroes strong, why deemed significant?

How would their stories different be if details here were bent?

If now a change is made upon my little daughter's head,

Should I expect a change in her? A stranger in her stead? 

152. Jessa and the Beanstalk (12)

I circled wide around my beanstalk, trying to decide how best to test its powers. Clearly Walter's presence changed it somehow, but how exactly, I didn't know. So I did the only thing that made sense to me.

I pushed him again, this time into the beanstalk, and, again, it disappeared.

He yelled in frustration, but I didn't hear what he said. I dropped to the ground, pushing his feet to the side, searching for any indication of the beanstalk' presence. There was nothing. No tendrils like on sunny days. No hardened or clumped ground where the stalk met soil. It was empty. 

I heard my name hugged from above me and peered up to find Walter looking at me in utter bewilderment. Poor guy. But I had to know. Putting on my kindest voice I asked him to take a few steps backward. 

"What is this about, Jessa? First you run off, then you push me around for no reason, now you're acting like a nutter. I know you try to be different from the other girls in town, but this is a bit much, even for you."

I couldn't help but laugh. I cackled, really. But how else do you cover pain? He was right. I was different from all the others. I didn't want to spend my days making butter or patching clothes. I didn't want to marry Peter Feffelhurst and produce baby after baby until I was old and dried up and coarse. I wanted my own adventures. Was that so wrong? My cackles turned to hysterics and my hysterics turned to tears. "I'm sorry" I whispered. I didn't know what I was sorry for, exactly. Sorry for not being like everyone else. Sorry for pushing him. Sorry for being crazy. Sorry for having this fit. Sorry for being trapped in this world. Just sorry.

My heaving sobs abating, I rested my head on my knees, trying to calm my heart. This never would have happened if I had stayed in the clouds, I thought. I needed a way to stay longer. I had never tried staying past sunset. When my white world turned golden, I always returned home. But this time, the next time I went up, I would see what happened when the gold turned black. 

Steeling myself, I looked up, but was surprised to find Walter kneeling in front of me, his eyes level with mine. "I like that you're different from them, Jess. I like your stories and your drawings. I'm sorry that I upset you. I didn't mean to. I just worry about you when you disappear. I..." he stammered, "I think maybe that I love you."

Walter loved me? I blinked. "But I'm weird," I blurted stupidly. 

Walter laughed. "And stubborn and bossy." I cocked my eyebrow at him. This is really how you tell a girl you love her? But then he put his hand over mine gently and said "and that's what I love about you. You see things differently than any other girl I've met. You are smart and funny and creative. Do you know every day that you don't come into town I spend trying to come up with new ways to impress you? But half the time I fail because you already know what I've spent weeks trying to learn or you come up with a better way to build what I design."

I chuckle at this, remembering the well pulley he created for the Leibovitzes. After only two weeks I had adjusted it to pull enough water not only for their kitchen needs, but also for their two closest neighbors, and had laid troughs to carry the water out for them.

I bite my bottom lip, sucking it in as I make a decision. Walter quirks a smile, like he knows he's about to win. He wants to get out of this town as much as I do. He's talked about it almost as much as I've thought about it. Perhaps, sharing my world wouldn't be so bad after all. 

"Walter," I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut. Here goes. "Can you keep a secret?"