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After a while, he looked around and realized he was in a place he was not familiar with. I must have been lost in my calculations, he thought to himself, slightly disconcerted. He found he was walking along a high, ivy covered wall he'd never seen before. Slowing, he noticed he had come to what appeared to be the entrance of a garden. It wasn't gated, and it certainly looked inviting!
The young man had to admit to himself that he was unusually tired and sweaty, and desiring to sit down and regain his composure, he stood in the archway hesitating to enter someone's private property. He looked around to see if he could find the owner's name anywhere. Above the arched entry, nestled in the ivy, was a terracotta plaque. On it was impressed, simply, the word "Rest".
As he stood there, wondering, a friendly looking man appeared, smiling, and waved him in. "Hello, there! Come on in and take a load off!" The man said cheerily. He was dressed in jeans and a loosely woven shirt rolled up to the elbows. He was tan and had on leather work gloves and an apron with some gardening tools in it. He must be the gardener, thought the young man to himself. I wonder who this garden belongs to? But before he got a chance to ask, the man said. "Take a look around. Stay as long as you like. There's a fountain over there, and some fruit trees. Help yourself! I'll be around if you need anything." He smiled again, and then walked away.
The young man, not wanting to seem rude, decided to get a drink of water and then take off. I'm going to be really late if I don't get out of here and find my way back home, he said to himself. He could hear the fountain trickling, so he walked in the general direction of the sound. There was a nice path and shade trees, and multitudinous birds calling back and forth. He noticed that it was a lot cooler inside the garden than it had been on his walk.
On his right, he saw a huge spider web hanging between two large trees. He stopped and studied it because it was glittering with dewdrops and glowed like gold in the sunlight. Many flies had been trapped in the web. I wonder where that spider is? he thought. As if the spider had heard him, it came out onto the web and began to wrap the flies up and cut them out of the web. On its bulbous black back was a bright red marking. The young man looked closer and saw that it was a cross. The spider carried one of the wrapped flies back to its home somewhere in the big tree.
After a few minutes of watching the spider, the young man realized he was standing right next to the fountain. The clear water bubbled up from the shiny stone basin and ran down over the side and into a metal grate in the slab he was standing on. There was an aged metal plaque on the ground that read, "Rivers of Living Water." That's odd, the young man thought as bent down to drink. The water was cold, pure and refreshing. My goodness, I was thirsty!
The young man stood up and turned to see where the exit was, and suddenly tears began to flow, unbidden. They seemed to come from deep within him. He was momentarily overtaken with feelings he was not familiar with, so he sat down on a stone bench. As he wept, he thought of things he'd neglected in his life. In his mind, he could see wilted things being revived and flourishing.
The tears stopped as suddenly as they had begun. The young man felt more refreshed than he had in a long time. Next to him, on the stone bench, he noticed a large black book with gold letters. On the front, it said, "Speak." Curious, the young man picked up the book. The leather felt soft and smooth, like it had been handled many times. He opened it somewhere in the middle, and began to read.
When he closed the book, he had the urge to open his mouth and try to say something. He stood up, slowly, an odd feeling of expansion coming over him. He began to speak, but rather than hearing words, he saw golden eagles coming out from inside of him, flying right out of his mouth. They took off flying somewhere he could not see. That was rather satisfying, the young man thought. And he hadn't had that thought ever in his life!
Looking up, the young man saw that the tree he was standing under was a pear tree. He realized then that he'd been enjoying the fruity scent the whole time he'd been at that bench. The gardener did say I could help myself, he thought, and he reached up and picked a ripe pear. It was large and lovely, with a rosy blush and a heavenly smell. Biting in hungrily, he had to laugh at how the juice was running all down his chin. He didn't care. It was delicious!
He began to think of a friend he hadn't spoken to in many years, whose face was clear in his mind. He realized, his memory having been jogged, that he had been holding a grudge against that friend. Waves of compassion flooded over him, and he forgave him immediately. I'll call him as soon as I get home, the young man decided. He looked down at his watch and saw that it had stopped at the same hour he had left his house. He had no idea what time it was!
The young man was used to knowing the time, and didn't like losing track. So he set out to find out what time it was as soon as he could. Maybe the gardener can tell me, he thought, and he started walking toward a sound in the garden. In a few steps, he came to a little plaza with a sundial in the middle. It was surrounded by many colorful flowers, arranged thoughtfully and with artistic flair.
He went up to the sundial to see what time it was, and was very puzzled to see that there was no shadow! In fact, looking around the garden, the young man was surprised to see that there were no shadows at all, in spite of all the trees. The light seemed to come from everywhere, and yet, the garden seemed cool and shady. This is a pretty strange place! he thought wryly.
"I'm glad you like my garden!" the man in jeans said joyfully, walking up to the young man, taking off his dirty gloves and grinning. "You're welcome to come in anytime, and stay as long as you like. I do have one request, though. I always give my guests a little something to do to help out when they're here. Nothing much, you know, just a little something." With that, the friendly gardener handed the young man a couple of large knitting needles attached to two balls of yarn, one blue and one red.
So the young man, not being able to think of what else to do, sat down on an Adirondack style chair under a lovely tree and began to knit. That's amazing! thought the young man. He was so taken with watching what the knitting was turning into, that he hardly noticed doing it at all. It wasn't long before he had knitted an entire sweater, with beautiful intarsia designs. The blue and red had come together in some places and had made a gorgeous purple. "Wear it if you want," the voice of the gardener called from somewhere not too far away. "Take it home if you'd like!"
The young man pulled the sweater on over his head. It was soft and warm, and fit him just right. Even the sleeves were just the right length for his extra long arms. He had to chuckle to himself, it was so uncanny. Feeling better than he had in a very long time, he stretched out his arms and began to sing. What a song came floating out of his very heart! He didn't remember ever having been able to sing like that before. But he didn't care. He just sang and sang.
After a while, the young man remembered again that he had no idea what time it was, and that he surely needed to get to work. He could see the archway from where he was, so he started towards it. Oh, I guess I should thank the gardener for letting me stay in here for so long, he thought, not really wanting to stop and talk.
The gardener had anticipated him, however, and was standing there waiting for him. "I wanted to give you this before you left," the gardener said. "Just a souvenir. But maybe it will remind you. Please come back anytime. I'll be looking for you!"
The young man felt shy then, and went out of the garden with only a whispered "Goodbye". It wasn't until he'd walked a couple of blocks that he looked to see what it was that the gardener had given him. In his hand was a little clay stone, impressed, simply, with the word "Rest".
by Karen Gladys Henry © 2007
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