“She suddenly noticed. The sun...wasn't rising. It's not rising, she thought to herself, because I have died in my sleep. I am in a dark place because I am dead. But why did I fix a bowl of oatmeal if I'm dead? That seems curious. Well, life is so strange, who's to say death is not even stranger?
And then she began to cry, because she had died before she had a chance to say thank you. She wanted to thank the sun for faithfully rising for so many years.
More important, she wanted to thank Pratt Public Library.
Thank you, Charles Dickens and Stephen King, Willa Cather and Mary Shelley. A big thank you to historical biographers, particularly Robert Caro. A special thanks to all the writers of children's books, even the brothers Grimm, who were a morbid pair, but vivid in their descriptive power. And wait, she forgot to thank the poets. There was such a nice little poetry section in Pratt, just behind the children's books.
Olive was so immersed in gratitude, she did not at first notice that the night clouds had vanished and the sun was peeking up from behind the mountains. She squinted in the overbright light. Heavenly light? she wondered. Because the blinding light was golden. Golden and, inexplicably, it was rising upward from the front porch steps.
Olive looked down.
"Oh," she said. The bowl of oatmeal dropped from her hands and clattered to the porch.
An animal had torn open the burlap bag in the night and spilled its golden contents all over the steps.
"Oh," Olive said again.
In among the scattered coins was a note. Olive lowered her-self to her knees and reached for it. She adjusted her bifocals and read the penciled words. It will never be enough, but I hope it is something. Love, the grum.
She stared at the note for a long time. Then she cleared a spot for herself and sat on her top step, surrounded by gold. She faced the bright, spring-green Endless Mountains. "It's more than enough, sweet grum," Olive whispered. "It's everything."
Harry's Trees by Jon Cohen pgs. 418 and 419
Invitation: “… before [she] I had a chance to say thank you. ”
Read more about Jon Cohen at this (link) and more about his work at this (link).
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"She wanted to thank the sun for faithfully rising for so many years. More importantly, she wanted to thank Pratt Public Library.
Olive was so immersed in gratitude, she did not at first notice that the night clouds had vanished and the sun was peeking up from behind the mountains," offers Jon Cohen.
I have never thought in a concrete way to thank the sun for faithfully rising or to be grateful for a public library, authors and poets, as Jon Cohen invites us to do through this story of Olive. Indeed, as I look outside, I am grateful for the brilliant sunshine pouring into my front windows in the midst of a cobalt blue sky. And, like Olive, I am grateful for public libraries -- now more than ever since they are being de-funded by this current Administration. And, I am grateful for authors and poets that open my eyes, heart and conscience.
Thank you Pat and Jean for this reflection and for each daily reflection.