The Girl From Wheatenburg

Today, I am not going to write but share one of my youngest daughter’s stories. My daughter is a  nomad, a butterfly, and a bright star. Having children and being a mother is one of the greatest privileges of life and also one of the hardest. Rachael has particularly stretched me in the department of patience, surrender to the unknown, and in letting go. She also lights up a room when she enters it and everyone loves her. She is an extremely hard worker, hard on herself and sometimes hard on others.

Every child has a journey that as parents, we can only be a guide and a witness to. We cannot move the immovable obstacles of their own creations. We can only offer support when they are stumbling or succeeding.

I was going to share a poem of mine today and came across this story my daughter wrote while visiting me a few years back. It’s nice to have children who are gifted in talents. My three daughters are all highly creative-painters, muscians, glass-blowers, photographers, and writers.

We share a strong love for the arts and many a time it has been the joy of walking an art museum and listening to my now grown daughters discuss modern art,  or talk about the greek classics,  or listen to the newest band from Iceland.

Children can expand our world and viewpoints, if we allow it. They grow us up as well. We become better humans as a parent. For those of you who do not have children this is not to say  parents are better humans than non-parents. I’m only saying that children like a spouse give you the opportunity to grow as a human being. They help you deal with your own trigger points and issues. A sick baby at 2:00 am or a teenager who had gone out for the night can all be springboards for our development.

I hope you enjoy reading Rachael’s story.

The Girl From Wheatenburg

In the tiny village of Wheatenburg, lived a little girl. Every night, when mother turned out all the lights, the little girl found her friends. Most of her friends we’re dead, but this made no difference to the little girl. So each night, in the upperstory loft of a vine swallowed complex, the girl lived with the dead.

Years passed and the little girl became a normal sized girl. She stared out at her friends, the stars, and they stared back at her. . . brighter and more bright as the time passed.

The vines form the upper story loft grew more and more over the building, and a few months into the normal sized girl’s life she left the loft. For the vines grew over the window from which she looked out at each night.

A plane took her to a far away place. The plane flew with her friends, so she felt good knowing they were moving as well.
Very tired from this excursion, the normal sized girl slept and slept. The stars thought she’d forgotten about them.

Still, they kept growing brighter and closer. . . Finally, she woke up and was happy to see they were there. Some had gone and some had appeared.

She biked to the hills, and found some bright dead friends, she biked to the rivers and found them flowing not too far ahead.

Then.. she jumped off a cliff and found them all within the abyss.

She was a big girl now and all her friends, the stars, were there…soo bright.

Mother had to of turned on all the lights!

Rachael Bruce Walker

1 thought on “The Girl From Wheatenburg”

  1. Couldn’t agree more about the joys and privileges of parenting. By the time the bundles of joy arrive in our lives, much as we might have read and studied in preparation, it’s the ultimate reality check, but no less the ultimate GIFT! Apple and tree come to mind, Victoria.

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