A story
Kenzi and the Puddle That Held the Whole Sky
It rained all night long. It drummed on the roof and pattered on the windows and gurgled down the drainpipe outside Kenzi's bedroom.
In the morning, the rain stopped. Kenzi pulled back the curtain, and the world looked washed and new. The leaves on the lemon tree were shiny. The garden wall was dark and wet. And in the middle of the path, there was a puddle. A big, round, beautiful puddle.
Kenzi was five, and she loved puddles more than almost anything.
She ran to the door in her pajamas. "Mama! There is a puddle! A giant one!"
Her mother laughed. "Breakfast first. Then boots. Then puddle."
Kenzi ate her bread and honey as fast as she could. She pulled on her red rain boots, the ones with little white dots, and her yellow coat. Her little brother Yamen, who was three, pulled on his green boots too. He put them on the wrong feet, so Mama helped him swap them around.
Then they went outside.
The air smelled of wet earth and lemons. Drops of water were still falling from the tree, plip, plop, plip. The puddle lay in the middle of the path, round and still.
Kenzi ran straight at it.
SPLASH!
Water flew up in a great silver spray. It landed on her boots, on her coat, on the wall, and some of it even landed on Yamen, who squealed and laughed.
SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH!
Kenzi jumped and jumped. The puddle sloshed and rippled and slapped against the edges of the path. It was wonderful.
After a while, Kenzi stopped to catch her breath. She looked down. The puddle was brown and muddy and wobbly. Little waves were running across it.
Yamen was squatting at the edge, looking into the water. "Where is it?" he asked.
"Where is what?" said Kenzi.
"The sky," said Yamen. "Before, there was sky in the puddle. I saw it from the window. Now it is gone."
Kenzi frowned. "There is no sky in a puddle, silly. The sky is up there."
But Yamen shook his head. "There was," he said. "With a bird."
Kenzi looked into the puddle. All she could see was brown water, jiggling and wiggling. She jumped in once more, just to be sure. SPLASH! Still no sky.
Their grandmother, Teta Wafaa, was sitting on the porch with a cup of tea. She had been watching them with a twinkle in her eye.
"Yamen is right," she said. "There is a whole sky in that puddle. But the sky is shy. It only comes out when the water is still."
Kenzi looked at her grandmother. Then she looked at the puddle. "How long does it take to be still?"
"Ah," said Teta Wafaa, and she smiled. "That is the tricky part. You have to wait."
Kenzi did not like waiting very much. Waiting was the slowest thing in the world. But she wanted to see the sky in the puddle. So she crouched down next to Yamen at the edge.
"We have to stay very still," she whispered. "No jumping."
Yamen nodded seriously and put both hands on his knees.
They watched.
At first, the water was muddy and rocking. Then the little waves grew smaller. The ripples slid out to the edges and faded away. The mud began to sink slowly to the bottom, like sand settling in a jar.
Kenzi's legs began to feel tingly. She wanted to stand up. She wanted to splash. But she stayed still.
A drop fell from the lemon tree. Plip. A ring spread out across the water and disappeared.
And then, slowly, slowly, something appeared.
First, Kenzi saw the edge of a white cloud. Then a patch of bright blue. Then the green leaves of the lemon tree, upside down, with yellow lemons hanging like little lamps. Then the top of the garden wall.
"Look!" breathed Yamen.
The puddle had turned into a window. Inside it was a whole sky, blue and deep, with fluffy clouds drifting gently by. It looked so real that Kenzi felt she could fall right into it.
Then a small brown sparrow flew across the sky inside the puddle. Kenzi looked up, and there it was, the real sparrow, flying over the real wall.
"There is the bird!" said Yamen. "I told you!"
"You did," said Kenzi. "You were right."
She leaned closer. She could see her own face now, with her yellow hood and her rosy cheeks, smiling up at her from between the clouds. Yamen leaned in too, and there was his face beside hers, with his nose almost touching the water.
"We are in the sky," whispered Yamen, and both of them giggled very quietly, so the water would not wobble.
They stayed there for a long time, watching the clouds float through the puddle. One cloud looked like a rabbit. One looked like a teapot. One looked like Teta Wafaa's cat, curled up asleep.
At last, Mama called from the door. "Who wants warm milk?"
Kenzi stood up very carefully, so she would not make a single ripple. She took Yamen's hand.
"Teta," she said as they climbed the porch steps, "the puddle sky was even better than splashing."
Teta Wafaa laughed and pulled them both into a warm, damp hug. "Splashing is good too," she said. "But some of the best things only show themselves when we are patient."
That afternoon, the sun came out and dried the path. By evening, the puddle was only a dark patch on the stones.
But Kenzi did not feel sad. She knew that one day it would rain again. And next time, before she jumped, she would wait for the sky to come out and say hello.
Then she would splash. Just a little.
In the morning, the rain stopped. Kenzi pulled back the curtain, and the world looked washed and new. The leaves on the lemon tree were shiny. The garden wall was dark and wet. And in the middle of the path, there was a puddle. A big, round, beautiful puddle.
Kenzi was five, and she loved puddles more than almost anything.
She ran to the door in her pajamas. "Mama! There is a puddle! A giant one!"
Her mother laughed. "Breakfast first. Then boots. Then puddle."
Kenzi ate her bread and honey as fast as she could. She pulled on her red rain boots, the ones with little white dots, and her yellow coat. Her little brother Yamen, who was three, pulled on his green boots too. He put them on the wrong feet, so Mama helped him swap them around.
Then they went outside.
The air smelled of wet earth and lemons. Drops of water were still falling from the tree, plip, plop, plip. The puddle lay in the middle of the path, round and still.
Kenzi ran straight at it.
SPLASH!
Water flew up in a great silver spray. It landed on her boots, on her coat, on the wall, and some of it even landed on Yamen, who squealed and laughed.
SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH!
Kenzi jumped and jumped. The puddle sloshed and rippled and slapped against the edges of the path. It was wonderful.
After a while, Kenzi stopped to catch her breath. She looked down. The puddle was brown and muddy and wobbly. Little waves were running across it.
Yamen was squatting at the edge, looking into the water. "Where is it?" he asked.
"Where is what?" said Kenzi.
"The sky," said Yamen. "Before, there was sky in the puddle. I saw it from the window. Now it is gone."
Kenzi frowned. "There is no sky in a puddle, silly. The sky is up there."
But Yamen shook his head. "There was," he said. "With a bird."
Kenzi looked into the puddle. All she could see was brown water, jiggling and wiggling. She jumped in once more, just to be sure. SPLASH! Still no sky.
Their grandmother, Teta Wafaa, was sitting on the porch with a cup of tea. She had been watching them with a twinkle in her eye.
"Yamen is right," she said. "There is a whole sky in that puddle. But the sky is shy. It only comes out when the water is still."
Kenzi looked at her grandmother. Then she looked at the puddle. "How long does it take to be still?"
"Ah," said Teta Wafaa, and she smiled. "That is the tricky part. You have to wait."
Kenzi did not like waiting very much. Waiting was the slowest thing in the world. But she wanted to see the sky in the puddle. So she crouched down next to Yamen at the edge.
"We have to stay very still," she whispered. "No jumping."
Yamen nodded seriously and put both hands on his knees.
They watched.
At first, the water was muddy and rocking. Then the little waves grew smaller. The ripples slid out to the edges and faded away. The mud began to sink slowly to the bottom, like sand settling in a jar.
Kenzi's legs began to feel tingly. She wanted to stand up. She wanted to splash. But she stayed still.
A drop fell from the lemon tree. Plip. A ring spread out across the water and disappeared.
And then, slowly, slowly, something appeared.
First, Kenzi saw the edge of a white cloud. Then a patch of bright blue. Then the green leaves of the lemon tree, upside down, with yellow lemons hanging like little lamps. Then the top of the garden wall.
"Look!" breathed Yamen.
The puddle had turned into a window. Inside it was a whole sky, blue and deep, with fluffy clouds drifting gently by. It looked so real that Kenzi felt she could fall right into it.
Then a small brown sparrow flew across the sky inside the puddle. Kenzi looked up, and there it was, the real sparrow, flying over the real wall.
"There is the bird!" said Yamen. "I told you!"
"You did," said Kenzi. "You were right."
She leaned closer. She could see her own face now, with her yellow hood and her rosy cheeks, smiling up at her from between the clouds. Yamen leaned in too, and there was his face beside hers, with his nose almost touching the water.
"We are in the sky," whispered Yamen, and both of them giggled very quietly, so the water would not wobble.
They stayed there for a long time, watching the clouds float through the puddle. One cloud looked like a rabbit. One looked like a teapot. One looked like Teta Wafaa's cat, curled up asleep.
At last, Mama called from the door. "Who wants warm milk?"
Kenzi stood up very carefully, so she would not make a single ripple. She took Yamen's hand.
"Teta," she said as they climbed the porch steps, "the puddle sky was even better than splashing."
Teta Wafaa laughed and pulled them both into a warm, damp hug. "Splashing is good too," she said. "But some of the best things only show themselves when we are patient."
That afternoon, the sun came out and dried the path. By evening, the puddle was only a dark patch on the stones.
But Kenzi did not feel sad. She knew that one day it would rain again. And next time, before she jumped, she would wait for the sky to come out and say hello.
Then she would splash. Just a little.
