Children Fiction posted January 3, 2011

This work has reached the exceptional level
A little boy loves his mom

Mayflowers and Mud Puddles

by Realist101

The rains of spring soaked the winter away, and it was on a gray April morning that Christopher first used the umbrella his mother had given him for his seventh birthday. He peeked into her bedroom and quietly went to kiss her good-bye before leaving for school.

"Hmmm, bye bye, sweetheart. Be careful. Don't forget, Daddy made your lunch for you."

"Bye, Mommy. Please get well, Mommy. Okay?" He stood, relunctant to leave his mother, who had fallen, and now lay stiff and sore. But she smiled and assured her little boy that she would be alright soon.

Young Christopher walked to school, the rainbow colored umbrella shielding him from the chilly downpour and the blustery breeze. It was like having his mother alongside him, comforting, and protecting. It made him happy.

"Splish, splash, I'm taking a bath ...." He chanted the song over and over as he traversed the rain soaked sidewalks. Joy for the boy could be found in the simple things and each day, as he walked the familiar route to his classes, he was in another world. The mud puddles became lakes, the rain was sent from aliens out to flood the earth, and Christopher imagined his umbrella a magic flying machine that would help him save the universe.

In class, the rainbow-colored umbrella sat in the corner of the coatroom, waiting for the boy to open it up again and let it shelter him against the weather.

Christopher wiggled impatiently. He hoped it would rain during recess so he could employ his new umbrella once more. But, alas, the sun peeked out and it was left to dry out in the dark coatroom.

Alone despite being in the midst of the other children, Christopher played alone. Arms splayed, he was a jet-bomber, fighting evil and he flew around the playground, a virtual hero to the masses, a pilot from the stars. He swooped down on the bad guys, ratty-tat-tat, his machine gun firing and they all fell, splat, dead as doornail's. But all too soon, reality brought him back down to earth as the bell rang and he had to return to the dull classrooms and the drone of the teacher's voice.

Later, during the last recess, the others were playing a new game. Christopher stood and watched, soaking in the details of just what they were doing. It was like hop-scotch, but different. He memorized the words and went about trying it for himself.

"Step on a crack and break your mother's back. Step on a crack and break your mother's back ... " This went on for the whole of recess, Christopher would have to remember this. He loved his mother and would never do anything to harm her. He thought of all the times he had stepped on the cracks. And now he knew why his mom had to always go to the doctor to have her back checked. He felt instant horror and shame and vowed to never step on another crack, in any sidewalk, ever again. As long as he lived.

And on the way home, the little boy lost interest in the rainbow colored umbrella. He was much more concerned with avoiding the cracks in the sidewalks.

He padded along, head down and in his preoccupation, almost didn't see the toad perched in the middle of the sidewalk. It was trying to avoid being swept away by the little rivulets in front of Mrs.. Monroe's house.

Christophers yellow boot came close, and he abruptly stopped.

"I almost got you, Mr.. Toad, I'm sorry." And he ever so gently picked the toad up and sat the creature back into the wet grass, out of harm's way. The toad watched the boy with interest. He was extremely glad to not have been stepped on.

Overhead, the rain clouds observed the little boy with the colorful umbrella and decided not to drench him again. They bumped into each other and a rumble of thunder spoke of things to come. Afterall, it was April.

And when Christopher reached the gate where he entered the sanctuary called home, he walked around the sidewalk to his house and tumbled down as his dog, Lady, jumped up on him with gleeful greetings.

They played a time, the boy finally resting on the old wooden swing in the garden where the mayapples and the mushrooms grew. He and Lady sat, content in their world, next to each other, wet, but happy. Life was kind and the little umbrella smiled.


Thanks for reading this story, that in it's telling, will hopefully bring you joy. This was how my son was at this age and still is, deep down in his 22 year old body...quite simply, kind. And tho I have never given my son an umbrella, my Mom gave me a rainbow colored one when I turned seven, and I have it still. Thank you to Photobucket, too. Oh, the apostrophes...apostrophe's? Let me know if I have them right for once?? Thank you so.
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