A Bedtime Story For Asia

 Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Asia. There was nothing extraordinary about her. She lived with her mother and father and 3 sisters and 3 brothers. They owned a small stand in the city, where the King's servants would come to buy vegetables to accompany the King's meat at mealtimes, and fruit for the King's dessert. They were happy together, and were pleased with what little possessions the earth had blessed them with. 

     Their home, nothing beyond a small adobe on the outskirts of town, lay in the middle of a vast uncultivated valley. It fit all of them nicely, even though all nine members of the family ate on the ground, and slept next to the fire on the one blanket they had. They had little, as I've said before, but they were contented with the love they had for one another.

 

     Despite all Asia had, she could not help but to be sad. There was no reason for it, she was given everything her family would afford, but none the less, every night, she was drawn to tears.

 

     One day, as Asia was harvesting vegetables to sell in the market, a weary  traveler came into view. Asia watched periodically the man come towards her. Being the youngest child, living in a place where danger was a thing only in tales, Asia was curious about the man. Bending down to pick the carrots, she wondered if the man had a family, and if her father would object to giving him some of what mother nature gave to them so readily. Standing up, she noticed a shadow standing before her, no taller then her eldest brother. 

     "Little sister," the shadow began, "please, share with me some of your food, for I have traveled far to find land that has not been ravished by man and would like to eat from it." The voice did not sound harsh, rather it sounded like her youngest brother's did when soothing hurt feelings. She looked back towards the adobe and seeing no one watching her, she handed the shadow a carrot. 

     "Your kindness and compassionate fearlessness towards a strange traveller, stranger still that you cannot see him, will not be forgotten." With that, a stick appeared and replaced the carrot she had given him from her basket. "If ever you are sad, hold this stick, and remember that you have saved a soul's life. Take comfort in that, little sister, and you shall never be sad for anything again. " Looking back from her goods, she saw the shadow walk away in the footsteps he left behind. 

     At supper that night, she held her stick and rolled it around in her hands, trying to find something that would explain the man she had seen. Observing her daughter's strange behavior, the mother asked what she was doing with her hands? Did they hurt after harvesting all day? 

     "No mother, my hands are strong and willing to do anything for my loved ones. Can you not see this stick that I am holding?"

     Asia persisted that her stick was real, and all eight of her family called her looney. "You are a buffoon. There is no stick!" cried her brothers and sisters. 

     That night, as Asia's tears fell onto her stick, words began to etch themselves into the wood. "My child, do not be sad. Remember always that you have given an old, weary traveller respite." Upon reading this message, Asia felt her tears dry up, and a pride previously unknown.  She presently fell into a deep sleep. She dreamt of a man with a kind face. His hair was as dark as the nighttime sky, and his eyes twinkled like the stars. He did not look strong in anyway, but a feeling of it came from the man. Another smaller man came from behind this bigger man, a smaller man came from behind this man, and so on, until there were 30 men in a line, each smaller then the one before him and identical to the first man. Smiling, all 30 men bowed their heads and one by one, went back behind the biggest. Lifting his head, the man stood, smiling, until Asia was woken up.

     "Come, sister. It is time to go to the city and Papa needs help with the cart."

     The next night, Asia had the same dream. This time, as all 30 men were lined up, the original stepped forward. "Asia," the man said "here you see all 30 souls from all 30 years that I have been breathing. You have fed one, and from that one, you have fed many. Because of you, I can now recreate my village that was torn apart by violent visitors who tore the land and bleed it out. Many more will now be fed, for I am the sole farmer in my small village. I now have the tools to teach the younger generation, so they can provide for their children. I can show them how to hunt, and how to take only what they need. The children will learn in their schools, and dash through the center of the village as they did before. Girls and boys will be married and happy in their lives. The eldest of the village will be cared for in ways they have not been for many years. Death will no longer stand on our doorsteps, waiting for the unfortunate person to walk over the threshold. Because you did not run away, you have alleviated a village from the the seventh hell. You are our angel, sent from God, answering our decade of prayers. From something simple came something grand. Now goodnight, dear Asia, and may the earth grant you happiness and peace."

     And with that, whenever Asia was sad, she would provide as much respite as she could afford for all the sick and tired souls she came across. Asia never shed another tear, content with the notion that the earth will give and take with the promise of a future of simple happiness.

 

The End. 

 

Moral of the story: You never know who you are helping, so help all and reject none.