Seven Loaves of Bread and the Boy's Painted Smile

A boy learns that perfection and happiness is only found when you find peace in being imperfect.

Once upon a time, in far off place that most considered a utopia, there was a boy that all the land admired.  In their eyes he was blissful and with fortune, but the truth lied in a tormented place hidden behind the boy’s line of sight.  This seemingly joyful boy was plagued with the pressures of perfection.  Each day with a can of paint and a brush, he painfully painted a smile on his face.  Deep down in his chest he longed for something that would help him obtain his much wanted bliss, but until that day he would disguise his angst and only allow the night’s ears to hear the terrible sounds of him dying inside.

One golden afternoon, the boy was trotting into town to greet the town's people and to pick up seven loaves of bread for his mother, for there would be guest over for supper.  He planned to pick-up the bread from his grandfather, who was also the baker.  The boy knew that this was an important task because his mother wanted tonight to be perfect, and she knew that she could count on her perfect son to get the job done.  As he walked into the town he visited with many of the people.  He said, “Well hello to you, how are you this fine Friday, you know its always nice to see a friendly face.”  Every face was soaked in respect for the boy.  The butcher, the blacksmith, the seamstress, the doctor, the sheriff, and even the mayor all replied the same way, “Hello boy, it seems as though our fine city has two suns today, one shining bright and giving warmth from above and the other shining bright and keeping warmth in our hearts from the ground.”  After every compliment the boy felt worst about his depression and hidden misfortune.  He had his fake smile tightly fastened to his face, but by now even his smile was growing weary and faded.  The boy made his way into his grandfather’s bakery, the fresh smell of raised bread and a room full of sweet cakes and pies filled his nose, and set easy on his taste buds.  His grandfather greeted him heavily as his “perfect grandson” and with an apron tightly secure around his small frame, he hurried to the back to gather the bread and to send the boy on his way back home with what his mother wanted.  The boy tucked the bread away in his handy knapsack and headed toward the woods to his house on the hill.  

On his path, he came across a hare that was only fur and bones, whom was also dragging behind him some of the smallest carrots that you’d ever see.  The boy with true compassion in his heart said to the hare, “You poor hare is that all the food that your little starved fingers could scrounge up?”  The boy reached in his knapsack and grabbed two loaves of bread and placed them at the feet of the grateful hare.  “I hope that this is enough for you and your family, so hurry your dainty legs back down your rabbit hole and surprise your wife with your hands full.”  The elated hare hurried about and the boy was on his way once again.  

Up yonder, the boy could hear the faintest sound of pleas, “Help, help, please is there someone to help me.”  The boy quickly moved in to investigate.  To his astonishment there was a girl with her hair tangled in a bush, and no more than ten feet from her stood a wolf growling and drooling at the mouth.  He knew if he didn’t come to her rescue that the poor girl would be gobbled up, clothes and all.  So the boy kept his fears in the back of his throat and reached for three loaves of bread and hurled one by the feet of the girl-hungry wolf, and threw one more passed him into the woods, and the last he hurled even deeper in the woods to draw him away.  Once the gullible wolf diverted attention from the girl, the boy took out a small pocketknife and cut half the girl’s hair off, freeing her from an undesirable fate.   She was very grateful.  She thanked him repeatedly, but at the same time hurried on her way before the wolf returned wiser.

Down to only two loaves of bread the boy started home again.  An uneasy feeling crept in his stomach, for he knew that his mother would be unpleased with him for arriving home shorthanded and would not understand his compassion and courage.  She would be ashamed and disappointed of her perfect boy being less than exemplary.  He took a couple more steps and stood in front of the creek beside his home, he pondered and turned over in his mind.  After several minutes which felt like hours to him, he grew a determined look of clarity across his face.  The boy reached in his knapsack for the remaining two loaves of bread and cast them in the depths of the creek.  He turned and walked tall straight down the remainder of the path towards his house.

When his mother saw that his knapsack was empty, she scorned and hit him.  She sneered and scoffed at him.  She cursed him to be an imperfect child.  The boy took it all in stride, it didn't phase him one bit.  He had a somewhat peaceful and content look to him.  After he was sentenced to his room without supper, he lay in his bed with a smile on his face, a real genuine smile that stretched from one ear to the other.   And across the room, lonely on the floor, there sat an unused can of paint and a dried paintbrush.  At last he was not perfect, he had finally found his much wanted bliss.

By Brit Sigh