ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, November 4, 1996 TAG: 9611040105
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-7 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: MONTY S. LEITCH
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
ONCE UPON a time, not so very long ago and not so very far away, a child was born whose first words were, "I want."
"What do you want, my dear?" asked her mother, leaning close.
The child said, "I want, I want, I want."
Now, this child's mother was kind and loving, and more than anything she hoped to make her child happy. So she offered the little girl every delicacy she could think of, every luxury she herself had ever desired: baskets of plums, shining with dew; tiny, gingery cookies, encrusted with sugar; moon-colored pearls strung on silver chains as fine as spider webs.
At each, the girl turned up her nose. "I want," she sniffed, "but not that."
As you can imagine, this baby girl grew into a difficult child.
Consequently, when it came time for her to marry, her mother felt no poignant sadness, but stifled, instead, a sigh of relief. She gave over her daughter's hand to the eager, earnest young suitor without a word. But she thought, in her heart, "Good luck."
"My darling," said the young man.
The girl replied, "I want."
Now, this eager, earnest young man was kind and loving; but, in the way of most young men, not more kind and loving than he was eager and earnest. He was sure he knew what his new bride desired, and he did his best to provide.
But she turned up her nose and sniffed. "I want," she said, "but, goodness knows, not that."
They lived together for three long years before they parted company.
And then, the girl found herself all on her own. When she said, out loud, "I want," no one answered her. No one provided her delicacies or luxuries, no one sought to satisfy her needs. She said, "I want" over and over, but it was as if she spoke to the wind. And, as the wind apparently felt no obligation to serve her, the girl sank into a dismal torpor.
But even a girl in a dismal torpor has to eat, and so one day the girl found herself slumped in the back booth of a tiny, not-so-nice restaurant. She'd propped her elbow on the table and was leaning her gloomy chin against her hand, when she heard someone say, "Mornin', honey. What'll it be?"
Surprised and delighted, the girl perked up. She raised her face expectantly. She said, with hope, "I want."
"Tell me something I don't know," answered the plump old crone. "Everybody wants. That's why folks come in here. But what do you want, honey?"
This so astonished the girl that her mouth dropped open. In all her years of wanting, no one had ever asked her this before. And so, in all her years of wanting, she'd never even given it a thought. What, indeed, did she want?
"You must be my Fairy Godmother!" the girl exclaimed.
"Honey," the woman answered, "I'll come back when you're ready."
"No, wait!" the girl cried, afraid to let this opportunity get away. In a flurry of excitement, she took up her menu. So many possibilities! But finally she said, with delight, "Let me have number three."
In just a moment, the woman returned and set a plate before the girl. It was heaped with slices of golden pears, wedges of yellow cheese, tiny heart-shaped crackers, and brilliantly purple grapes. But right on the edge of this beautiful plate sat
"A toad!" the girl shrieked.
"Comes with all the orders," the old woman said.
"But "
"Look, honey," said the old woman, "you got what you asked for. I'll bring you something different if you insist, but, like I said, you still get the toad. Doesn't matter what you want, it comes with a toad."
"But that's awful!" cried the girl.
"That's life," said the old woman.
The girl stared at her plate a minute. Then she nudged the toad with her fork. It raised up its watery, bulging eyes, ribbetted, then settled back on the edge of the plate.
"Most folks," said the old woman, "learn to work around 'em."
The girl set down her fork. Stared. Then picked up a wedge of pear.
The toad didn't move. And when the girl nibbled the pear, she found it was sweet and firm, the best she'd ever tasted.
So, she took a deep breath. "Well," she said, setting her shoulders.
"That's the spirit," said the old woman. "Enjoy."
And, sure enough, after that, the girl did.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times columnist.
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