“Not another rainy day!!” Trula stomped her feet and threw herself on the couch and sulked.
Her nana rocked by the window and pointed her finger at her grand-daughter, “Child, you take each day as it comes. You cannot command the universe or turn your back to what the Great Spirit hands you each day. You will regret it some day.” Holding her wooden beads, she whispered softly to herself but the only audible words were “protect her”.
Trula rolled her eyes and scowled at her nana. Year after year, it was the same thing when it was cloudy, raining, snowing or windy, Trula made a scene and refused to study and as she got older refused doing chores on the farm.
Several years later her nana died, when Trula was twenty-one. The family buried her on the farm near an old oak tree where Nana used to sit and read for hours and later when her eyes failed her, she would pray and smile up at the sky giving thanks to the Great Spirit for each new day.
A few days after the burial, Trula was planting seeds in the garden and suddenly the sky turned dark. An odd-looking cloud loomed over her and the wind picked up dramatically. Trula rose her fist to the sky in protest when suddenly she felt her feet lift from the ground and long tendrils pulling at her shoulder and head; a huge CRACK resonated from the sky muffling the sound of a broken neck.
the universe rules,
appreciate each day
rain or shine
(c) Tournesol ’16-03-19
Tournesol dans un Jardin 