The air was crisp. The sun had not yet touched the eaves of the church to the east. The great[GJ1] mountains were still dark. The songs of the tree frogs and crickets were long quiet. The mockingbird was still[GJ2] .
Jacob called his son to awaken[GJ3] . Simon’s eyes were shut even as he dressed and he drank his coffee w[GJ4] hile helping to gather the fruit and vegetables from the orchard and gardens and prepared the cart.
Simon and Jacob pushed the cart through the streets and alleys of the village to the market. The cart overflowed and Simon noticed the beads of sweat collect on his father’s brow and arms as they guided the wagon up the hills[GJ5] .
Simon began to skip about the cart as he cupped his hand to his cheek and began singing out in a load [GJ6] voice.
“Straw-ber-ries! A-vo-ga-tos! Round mel-ons! Plan-tee-nos!”
“Shhh,” his father motioned him back and whispered, “The people are sleeping and don’t want such a noise.”
Simon shrank back [GJ7] to his father’s side and gripped the cart’s handles. “But father,” Simon protested, “I was only trying to make the cart less heavy.”
“The marketplace is where we sell our goods, my son,” Jacob said, [GJ8] “not the streets. I say the fruit is heavy to me only on the [GJ9] way home.” He grabbed a shock of the boy’s hair and shook it as he laughed.
Jacob let go of the cart and stopped while Simon leaned forward, stretched and strained to push the cart up the hill. “See, you make it a feather,” Jacob said. Simon heard the metal rim of the wheels begin to skip and clack upon the cobbles[GJ10] .
When they reached the square, they separated. Jacob stopped, placed his hand to the hollow of his back and straightened himself. He saluted and called out the names of the other vendors as they, too, prepared for the day. Simon by this time had raced around the corner and joined the other boys as they played.[GJ11]
Jacob stood tall and called out at intervals: “Straw—ber—ries! A—vo—ga—toes! Round mel—ons! Plan—ti—noz.” His song vied with the others as their music filled the air. [GJ12]
The sound of the evening bell brought Simon back. It was a good day and Jacob gave Simon the cart to weigh as they marched home through the narrow streets[GJ13] .
It had been many years since Lean had stayed at home and tended the garden and prepared their small supper for their return. The aromas would greet them as they crossed the porch[GJ14] . Now, they had become experts at inventing their own meal each night with whatever remained and a fillet of fish or squid, which Simon had beguiled from one of the other vendors.
It was Simon who offered assistance to all. The merchants would give him a small piece of leftover food as payment for his help.
“Did you work hard for this reward?” Jacob asked sternly. “Oh, yes father.” Simon held out his rough hands to show the callouses. “They look like yours.”
“Then you better wash them now,” his father rebutted[GJ15] .
At the end of their meal, Simon would place himself before his father’s rocker and watch him as he lit his pipe and puff great streams of smoke out from his lips and nostrils.
“Father,” Simon looked as his toes wriggling out from his sandals, “why do the butterflies sit on the tops of flowers?” Jacob could only stare out beyond the great mountains. “Are they resting? Where do butterflies come from?”
Jacob knew these were not the usual questions Simon would ask at the end of the day. Mostly, it was of the new faces from the market, who they were and where they might be from. Simon was no longer content, either, to hear tales of far away lands and stories of the seas and of the great mountains[GJ16] .
“Butterflies, my son,” Jacob insisted, “are angels wearing all their finery from the rainbows. They do not sit, but dance for the flowers and in thanksgiving; they open and allow them to drink their honey. “ Simon looked very convinced but Jacob was concerned. There were so may more questions, so many more whys and hows, and wheres. Another instance urged Jacob to take Father Ignatius’ advice and prepare for the boy’s schooling.
When Jacob finished his pipe, he and his son went inside to bed and they slept very close together until morning. The moon crept into their room and the great mountains to the east grew dark and looked very far away. The air became cool and crisp, the sounds of the tree frogs and the crickets and the mockingbirds made them sleep, and they dreamt of Lean, and far away places[GJ17] .
Within a week, the boy was with Father Ignatius on the road to the city. Jacob had been saving his coins for many years. Seven hundred, he told himself, was not much money, but Father Ignatius assured Jacob it would see Simon a long way.
It was many years after the boy left, and the old man dropped his cart at the side of the house. He pulled himself up unto the porch and through the doorway every evening and fired his wood to fry the plantains. The fish and the squid were fewer now. The others would come at the day’s end and give Jacob a piece of meat or vegetables, what ever was left over. “This is for Simon,” they would say. “Will he be returning soon?”
Jacob would sit in his chair by the fire and rock at the open door, smoke his pipe, and whisper at the peaks growing darker in the distance. They crowded around him, listening. He would mutter stories that he had told Simon and the mountains would bow in acknowledgement until Jacob closed his eyes.[GJ18]
The days were becoming shorter and Jacob sold whatever stray wood he could find around the orchard to the people in town. The snow on the peaks looked icy and hard and held the precious water until spring that was far away[GJ19] .
Until then, the old man would die many times. He would pull himself from his bed every morning and gather the wood. His eyes became deep and small and rested back in his cheeks like raisins. He burned oil on stones piled on the floor to warm his hands and feet. His pipe needed to be lit many more times. The many doors and faces of the day were on the floor with the stones. He sat muttering to Simon who sat before him, and he talked to Lean who sat deep within his waistcoat pocket. The great mountains to the east leaned closer.
The last snow had fallen and the garden was covered with a warm, white quilt. The weight of the snow made the branches of the trees touch the ground. The mountains were soon to give up their precious water and the strawberry vines would soon peek from beneath the briar. Some had become so bold as to climb the side of Jacobs house.
The old man did not see the sun rise over the eaves of Father Ignatius’ church, nor did he see the chimneys’ outline as the day grew late. In the early morning of the spring, the old man called out a name, Lean! and the mountains looked up. They saw Jacob’s chin lower to his chest and they saw his pipe fall to the floor.
The sun crept onto the porch and warmly wrapped Jacob and cast his shadow over the floorboards. The tree frogs sang him songs and so did the crickets, and so did the mockingbird. The mountains lowered their heads and Jacob could not hear them weeping. Some of the bricks of the crooked chimneys of the houses of the villagers fell to the ground.
The sun fell behind the mountains. The moon was yet to be full and high. The front porch now held three more shadows. Simon now stood with his wife and his new son. He was about to speak to his father when he noticed how very still his father sat, not getting up and greeting them. He knelt down to pick up the old man’s pipe. Tears dropped on the floorboards[GJ20] .
“This is my wife, Rachael, father, and this is my new son. We call him Jacob. He has been with us only a short time, but he is our joy. He is already courting [GJ21] us with his charms. He has your voice, father, and he can sing. Oh, father, can he sing! We are very happy. We are very lucky. Thank you, father.”
Simon and Rachael placed Jacob in the ground near the center of the orchard next to Lean. Their supper was meager, but warm, and Simon held young Jacob in his arms and whispered stories of his father, of the flowers, and the butterflies. Simon smoked his father’s pipe and watched with Rachael as the moon clambered in the window and smoothed their bedcovers. They listened to the songs of the tree frogs, and the crickets, and the mockingbird. When they slept, they held each other close. The mountains offered them up their dreams[GJ22] .
When the sun rose high above the eaves of the church in the east and peeked through the smoke from the chimneys, Simon had already greased the cart’s wheels and filled it. He waved back to Rachael with Jacob in her arms and he pumped the wagon up through the streets and alleys of the village to the square to sell his fruit. He sang his song along with the other vendors, and at the end of the day, they gave him the leftover small fishes and squid for his family.
General comments
This is charming folk story and I like very much that it shows a life cycle. We get a strong sense of place as the writer uses their senses and also the weather to indicate time and season.
There are a few instances of awkward expression but on the whole the writing improves as we get more into the story.
Please see my more detailed comment in the notes.
[GJ1]The formatting is odd here. You have a huge left margin. If this was created by a Word document, why not use one of the standard margin settings? Then no extra spaces between paragraphs, but indent each new paragraph. Normally for submissions, unless asked otherwise, you should double space.
[GJ2]Nice use of senses. However, the sentences are a little staccato. Try varying the length.
[GJ3]Slightly awkward.
[GJ4]Were his eyes still shut as gathered the fruit and vegetables?
[GJ5]A nice gentle hint of what Simon was thinking about his gather.
[GJ6]loud
[GJ7]very expressive
[GJ8]full stop here and start a new sentence
[GJ9]a very wise saying
[GJ10]You are showing clearly the relationship between father and son here.
[GJ11]Very human
[GJ12]A bit of cliché. Could you change it?
[GJ13]This is an interesting vignette so far but what has actually happened? I’m looking for th story here.
[GJ14]Some sadness here? A nice subtle way of introducing it.
[GJ15]Nice bit of dialogue – this enlivens the text.
[GJ16]So he is growing up,
[GJ17]Again, as with opening paragraph, a great sense of place. The language actually flows better here.
[GJ18]A great feeling of sadness here.
[GJ19]Good use of weather ton convey the passage of time.
[GJ20]Nice tension here.
[GJ21]I’m not sure that is quite the tight word.
[GJ22]A cycle completing itself.
