The Wise Farmer

I sat with my grandfather on a bench in the park, my young legs swinging off of the edge unable to touch the ground as I munched on a banana. It was spring then, evidenced by the fragrance of blooming flowers drifting through the air and the gentle breeze against our skin.  I was grinning broadly.
When my grandfather visited it was always special. Eagerly I waited each month for him to arrive, my heart lifting in my chest in excitement and tiny fists clenched in apprehension. When the moment I had waited for arrived and he was at my door, I would rush up and be wrapped in a big, warm hug especially for me. He smelled of soap and dust, a scent that made me feel warm and safe.
Before arriving at the park that day, something interesting happened. We began our walk; I hopped around cracks and chattered on about nothing while my grandfather held my hand firmly, my hand nearly lost inside his large but gentle grip. It was a nice day, the oak pollen fell from the sky like rain, and all around us flowers were starting to peak up out of the earth and stretch, yawning, after their nap.
As we walked, I realized that I did not know the area. I looked up to my grandfather.
“Are we going to the park?” My grandfather smiled down to me at my question.
“Of course, my dear. Don’t you want to go get your bananas and wings first?” Hearing this, my worries briefly vanished. I loved bananas and wings. Every time my grandfather came, that was his present to me as we walked to the park. I looked around again.
“Where are we?” I asked, unfamiliar with the smells and sounds surrounding me. My grandfather pulled me towards a store. Inside, I remember the walls and floor were dingy, the store shelves stocked with unfamiliar brands of food and cleaning products. Everything about the store was foreign to me. I felt out of place in my clean, crisp skirt and peach blouse, so I stayed close to my grandfather’s leg. Filled with not a hint of hesitation, my grandfather walked straight up to the counter and the tired looking man behind it.
“I would like one order of wings for my granddaughter here,” he said, his voice strong and cheerful. The man behind the counter left for a minute and returned with a brown paper bag. I bit my lip and tugged on my skirt with one hand, the other still wrapped in my grandfather’s hand. My grandfather placed some change on the counter for the man as payment and took the bag.
“Say thank you, Mona,” he instructed me.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, staring at my shoes.
“Speak clearly.  He can’t understand you.” I looked nervously to the man.
“Thank you,” I said, a little louder and daring to look into the man’s eyes. I saw something there. The tiredness wasn’t all that was in his face. Once I had really looked, I saw something new, something that made me smile. His eyes were kind. The smile he returned to me was genuine. We left the store, wings in hand and my nervous heart lifted.
Down the street we walked, holding a wings bag in one hand and gripping my grandfather’s hand in the other. Up ahead on our path I spotted a fruit stall, the scent of ripe fruit just barely tickling my nose. I pulled my grandfather up to it and picked up a banana.
“Don’t touch my fruit!” a lady screeched, running out of the store and waving a wicker broom. I dropped the banana, which fell to the street, and twisted my head. A cleanly dressed young woman came my way. Her face was hard and pinched, like that of an old crone. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes from being yelled at. At that age, I couldn’t understand why the woman would yell at me. What had I done wrong?
“We were only looking to purchase some fruit ma’am. I’d like to purchase two bananas please,” my grandfather explained calmly.  The woman looked at us, the expression on her face still sour, remaining unchanged. I bent down and snatched the banana from the ground, blowing on it to remove the dirt. My grandfather picked up another banana from the stand and handed it to me. My free hand was now completely full so I hugged the ripe bananas to my chest. Looking the severe woman straight in the eyes, my grandfather smiled softly and handed the woman some change. She eyed us both and pocketed the money in her apron.
“Say thank you, Mona,” he instructed me. I looked at him surprised. He looked back at me firmly.
“Thank you,” I looked up to the woman. To my surprise, a thin smile appeared on her lips.
“You’re welcome, child.” The woman blinked a few times, then turned around and carried her broom back with her into the store. My grandfather and I continued on our walk in silence as I twisted around periodically to watch the store front, my young mind puzzling over what had happened.
“Are we going to the park now?” I asked. My grandfather nodded. We continued walking, and with my preoccupation while keeping my food balanced, before I knew it we had we arrived in the park.  Finding an empty bench to sit on, I placed my food on the seat and climbed up, my grandfather taking his seat next to me. I ate my wings in silence as he talked about what it was like for him as a child in the early 1900’s. Though normally fascinated, today I could barely pay attention. I interrupted him.
“Why did we go a different route today?” I asked him. My grandfather looked at me, surprised.
“Well, why not?” I didn’t understand, but I started smiling. I didn’t realize then what he had taught me that day, but the fact that he was confident and so loving was enough to make sense in my little mind. I was loved and that was all that mattered.
I quickly polished off my wings and started eating my banana. To anyone passing by, it would seem like an ordinary outing to the park between grandfather and granddaughter to enjoy the beautiful spring weather, but it was not an ordinary outing. Every moment with my grandfather, through his firm but sagacious and gentle ways, was special. By the time a day with him was over, he, like a wise old farmer, would have planted a seed of wisdom deep in my young mind to germinate until the time was right and I could harvest its sweet fruit.