The Conversation

 

            The second meadow, the one with the Gifting Stump, is small and tends to be floral, an enchanting habitat for bees and various birds, during the warmer months anyhow.
            The first meadow, which is actually like an overgrown logged over field from the old days, is the location of Uncle Bob’s Stump House. The field is littered with the detritus of logging. A lot of firewood has been salvaged from that ruin. There are many stumps in areas adjacent to the Great Forest, and indeed, inside the Great Forest.
            The American west and actually many other places are built of the bodies of those giants. Those stumps seem to be their memorials.
            Nevertheless, after Twigg walked Marge to her mom’s house, he walked happily back down his trail, past the Neanderthal’s cottage. There were lights on in the front room and the kitchen, but nobody was outside and he didn’t bother them.
            When he got clear of the trees, near where he and Marge had met, the old Gifting Stump, he stood studying the sky. It was a clear night. A rather rare thing. He could see the very surface of the moon. When he looked around the whole tent of the heavens, the sensation of depth was so dizzying that Twigg had to look down again.
            He passed the berry patches, now resting up for winter, and entered in among the trees, heading for home.
            Under the trees, he heard an owl call. He answered her, she called him back, and he walked on. She wasn’t hunting, or he wouldn’t have heard her calling.
            When he was almost there, within sight of the fire circle, he stopped and looked. Around the fire, seated on the usual logs, were his parents, both of them. Cherry was on the ground at her parent’s feet, snuggled up with Blue, who was getting just about full sized for a lady wolf. The cats were there too, staring dreamily into the fire.
            He knew change had to come, even here.
            Ralph looked up and saw his son standing in the shadows between the trees, partially lit by the fire. He raised his hand in acknowledgement.
            Twigg walked on down and took a seat on the other side of the fire, facing his family.
            A soft evening wind tossed a few leaves across the scene. Twigg yawned, and said, “Hi. It was an interesting day.”
            “That’s what I hear,” said Ralph.
            “Maeve?” said Twigg.
            “The Bear Thing?” said Ralph. He was laughing.
            “I had to come up with a song, so Marge would believe she could be a bear. So, I sang her the only bear song I knew,” said Twigg. “You did sing it to me once, remember?”
            “I don’t think I want to do it again. It’s hard to be a bear without being a bear, if you get that,” added Twigg.
            “Backfired on ya a little, did it?” said Ralph.
            “There are some things about bears that I didn’t know. Like how much they like garbage, how their whole world is a smell world, they just follow their noses around looking for food!” said Twigg. “I had just about enough sense left to get Marge to follow me down here, because I knew the change would change back here.”

            There was a companionable silence for a few moments.
            “You know we love Marge,” said Ramona. “For her own sake, you can’t let her love you too much, son.”
            “Yeah, I know,” he said, as softly as the little wind of a moment before.
            “When she starts work at the campground she will be too busy to think about me so much,” said Twigg.

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