The sun had already reached its zenith, when Jacquez let out a sigh as he fell to the ground and sat in the shade of the nearest apple tree. He was almost done for the day. He had started picking up the bell peppers as they were ready, the ripest apples and plumpest blueberries were also packed into the neatly tied closed bags that lay in a single line on the ground leaning on one another. In about a week, when the summer harvesting would be all done, his father would join the rest of the farmers and head to the main city, where he would sell the fruits and vegetables and with his revenue buy all the necessities needed to sustain life in our little father-son family.

I saw my father still working on his patch of basil, so went to the well and filled my canteen with my water, before heading in his direction.

“You must be thirsty, drink some,” I said handing over the opened canteen. He gladly took it without saying a word as usual. My father was a man of few words and spoke first only when it was necessary to do so, so when he started speaking to me, I alerted my ears to listen as carefully as I could, because I knew that what he was about to say was important:

“Jacquez, when we are done harvesting, I will go to the city so you will have to take care of yourself!” he said. I answered with the usual “Yes,dad” as he nodded and continued: “Son, lately there have me talks of bandits attacking and raiding the caravans and noble escorts in the Calomb forest, so me and the others are banding together this time, so even if we are attacked we can overwhelm them with number. I heard that there was some kind of foreign merchant caravan passing through our village, so we will try to join their group and travel together. That isn’t too important and you shouldn’t concern yourself with it, since you won’t be coming with us, but I just wanted to let you know for your info. What I would like for you to do personally is to stay out of the forest for a while. I know that it’s unlikely that they would be here, so close to the village, but just in case, for my sake, don’t go into the forest.”

Now this information was more interesting, as Jacquez analyzed what he had just heard. ‘So bandits are attacking caravans. Stay out of the forest! Got it’ I nodded. I often visited the forest in my free time. Due to me working since I was 3 I didn’t have too many friends and most of the kids my age didn’t like playing with me. The years of back-breaking work: plowing, planting, caring and harvesting, in addition to my diet consisting of only fruits and vegetables (meat was just too expensive) had ridden my body of any possible storages of fat and flab. So every time we would play all-in tag (same thing as normal tag, except that everyone who gets tagged also becomes “it” until there are no more people left to tag), everybody would be It, chasing after me and after still not catching me giving up in disappointment.

I remember feeling proud of myself, each time I would be left alone untagged and have them abortively chasing me around the whole village. Soon they gave up on me completely and simply ignored, making me feel kind of left out, but that wasn’t the end of it. I was about 3, but before I started helping out my father I had lots of free time and so I found a place where I belonged- the forest. It was a totally different world for me, as if I was sucked into a portal and transported to another universe. If the village was small and cramped with my competitors being kids, who were 2 times smaller than me, the forest was huge, a unique undiscovered landscape, where I explored and satisfied my curiosity. At first that was all I did in there, but later it became the place where I could feel myself at ease and think in silence about things that concerned me at the moment. My beatific state could not be ruined as I was always alone I there with nature itself being my only companion.

Seeing me do this, other children started shunning me even more, because none of them went into the forest and I was well “different”. People might say “every bodies different” and “that makes you unique and special”, I can answer with sincerity “please cut the crap”. Ok, maybe I was special, but the difference between a “special” outcast and a normal one isn’t a big one.

After sitting another 15 minutes in silence, I returned to my side of the field and continued working as I hummed the melody that would cover the entire village in a few days at the Summer Harvest festival.

It started to darken, as I skimmed the area for the figure of my dad. He was carrying the bags of veggies he had harvested into the shed outside the house. I also stopped my harvesting for the day and started doing the same as him to my bags filled with bell peppers and various fruits.

After finishing dad went into the house. I assumed it was to cook dinner, and as I was prohibited from going into my sanctuary, I made my way into the village where as always at this time found all the kids that were free to old day under the excuse of being too “young” to work. I wasn’t jealous or anything, and personally I found helping my father enjoyable, I just couldn’t stand their boastful nature.

As usual the biggest braggart was in the middle of the group showing off the wooden longsword his father, the village chief, had bought him last time he had taken his son to the city. Nador showed it off by doing some slashes that would have looked funny to anyone who had seen real swordplay, but as none of the kids had, they all stood there in awe as Nador kept jumping around and cutting the air.

He stopped swinging his sword and began to praise its quality showing the oak wood that was used and the great quality of workmanship. There was a sentence carved into the wood on the side and I heard one of the boys ask him what it said. All of them couldn’t read, but Nador, being the son of the village chief, had learned all the letters and was being tutored privately by a teacher that came once a month and taught him how to read and write. He squinted his eyes and started reading:

“T-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-o-to-to-to-m-m-y-y… To my!” he exclaimed and after that without even looking at the sword he exclaimed confidently: “To my son, Nador, from his loving father!”

“Ahhh… so that’s what it means!”

“You’re so smart Nador”

“How can you already know how to read at such a young age?”

“Not only reading, he can also write!”

“His gonna become the scholar of the village and I have this feeling that tells me that my prediction will come true.”

Those were just some of the comments that followed his grandiose statement. I let a quite laugh that wasn’t heard by anyone else, but me and thought ‘It says “To my child, who will turn this wood into steel”, dimwit’

I always wondered why others couldn’t read or write. It was so easy! Just like them I was never tutored or went to school, but I could write and read as long as I could remember and how that came to be was one of the most popular topics in my inner debates with myself.

I looked around and saw the sun setting. I didn’t want for them to notice me, which would instantly transform this peaceful evening into a goose chase, with me being the goose, and the sounds of 20 voices filling the air with my undying nickname “Jack-ass”. I left quickly, not letting them notice me and arrived at the house in about 20 minutes. Washed my hands and face near the well with cold water and went inside.

Ok, I will tell you straight, I was jealous. I was covered with green envy when I saw the wooden sword Nador had, and heard that he had gone to the city so many times, while I was stuck here all the time and hadn’t gone even 20 km farther than my home. I didn’t need any souvenirs or presents and fully understood that we couldn’t afford them, but just once I wanted to go to the city and see with my own eyes, instead of hearing it so many times from other people. As they say “Better to see it just once, than to hear it about it a million times.”

Dad was still cooking dinner, as I walked in and sat at the small wooden kitchen table. I looked at dad and asked: “Hey, dad, I’m already 7 years old and I help you out with the field, but I never get to see the other half of the process, when you go to the city. When I will already have my own field and my own family, wouldn’t it be weird if I could only harvest and couldn’t sell the things that I harvested?”

My dad laughed “Don’t try to be clever Jacquez, you know as well as I do that it won’t work.”

‘Seen through’ I thought in disappointment. Then I continued with another approach “But dad, you’re already getting old and your back isn’t the same as it used to be. I sometimes see you holding your back as if you were in pain, so let me help you with those heavy sacks the next time you go.”

My father looked at me sternly: “Jacquez!”

I turned away and my eyes fell to the floor. My dad must have seen my disappointment, because his face had softened. Now it looked kind of weird, as if he was fighting with himself in his mind. With the conflict resolved he said the words that I wanted to hear: “Ok, you can come, BUT you have to do EVERYTHING I say. Do you hear me, Jacquez, EVERYTING!”

I gave my usual “Yes, dad,” as went and hugged him as tightly as I could. That moment, my heart was almost bursting and I probably never had felt so happy since the time when mom brought home cheese from her job as a maid in the city.

“Now let’s eat,” he said putting down a bowl of mashed potatoes, rye bread and salad on the table. I started happily munching on the food with such noise from the wooden utensils hitting my teeth, that my dad finally snapped and came out of his usual calm demeanor:

“Eat slower, or you’ll break the spoon!”