A Fairy Tale

Once upon a very happy day,
I had gone with Grandma
to the little bitty mountain library,
ran my hands along the shelf (as was my wont),
and picked up the first book that popped out at me.
To my dismay, it was quite obviously
a fairy tale.
I sighed, much vexed in spirit.
But, it was my policy
to always read the very first book that grabbed my eye.
I trudged back to the car,
the loathsome book in tow.

Now, I had already learned
(through a prior bad book choice),
that when one finds oneself forced
to read particularly unpleasant literature,
it is best to do so out of doors.
The clean air and sunshine
helps alleviate
the general burden of the experience.

And so it was that I found myself
perched in a large aspen tree
in the middle of my grandparents' mountain property.
Reading a fairy tale.
But to my surprise,
this fairy tale was quite different.
The princess was, well, normal,
She didn't like frippery,
and she definitely did not look "princessish."
Yes, she predictably married a prince,
but at least he was every bit as ordinary as she.
And to top it off, they did not fall in love.
As far as I could tell,
they were the only fairy tale couple
to stand any chance of living happily ever after.

I was so pleased with the book
that I fully intended
to write down the title and author.
And I fully intended
to purchase the book for my children someday
as the first and primary fairy tale they should read.
I fully intended to do a great many things...
but something happened that ended our mountain stay
a good deal sooner than expected.
In the hustle and bustle,
I forgot about the book.

Every year when I visited my grandparents,
I went back to the library and looked for that book,
but never found it again.
Whenever I wandered their mountain land,
and passed that aspen tree,
I remembered the only fairy tale
that ever made sense.
And wished that I could find it again.

But nine years of visits worked upon my memory,
and in time, I forgot about that delightful book.
And only half remembered it
when visiting that musty old library.

Once upon another very happy day,
I celebrated my 22nd birthday.
My dear Ichiro
gave to me a book.
A fairy tale.
Even though he knew
that I abhorred fairy tales.

I took the book home.
And leafed through the pictures.
One in particular
jumped out at me.
Memory whirled.
Another picture.
And another.
Snippets of a story.
A tree.
An aspen tree.
In the mountains.
Of a little girl,
discovering a book so wonderful,
that she wanted to buy it for her
future children.

Thank you, Ichiro
Thank you for finding
my fairy tale.
I have waited long
to own this little edition.