A story
Maysa Chases Her Yellow Hat on the Windiest Day
The wind had been blowing since breakfast. It rattled the shutters. It made the washing on the line flap like flags. It bent the palm trees in the street so they looked like they were bowing politely to one another.
"It is a very windy day," said Maysa's mother, looking out of the window. "Wear your hat, or your ears will get cold."
Maysa's hat was her favorite thing. It was bright yellow, made of soft, woolly knitting, with a fluffy yellow pompom on top. Her grandmother had made it for her. Maysa pulled it on, and her mother tied her scarf, and they set off together for the park.
Outside, the wind was even stronger. It pushed against Maysa's back like a big friendly hand. It made her coat puff up. It blew leaves and bits of paper dancing along the pavement.
"Whee!" cried Maysa, holding out her arms. The wind pushed her along so fast that she almost felt like flying.
At the park gate, there came the biggest gust of all.
WHOOOOSH!
It swirled around Maysa and tugged at her scarf. And then, before she could grab it, it lifted the yellow hat right off her head.
"My hat!" cried Maysa.
The yellow hat sailed up into the air. It turned over and over, with its pompom bobbing. Then it came down on the path and began to roll, tumbling along like a little yellow ball.
Maysa ran after it.
The hat rolled past the swings. Maysa ran past the swings. It rolled past the big slide. Maysa ran past the big slide. Every time she got close and bent down to grab it, the wind blew again, and away it went.
"Come back, hat!" she called.
The hat rolled toward the duck pond. A family of brown ducks quacked in surprise as it bounced past them. Maysa's heart jumped. If the hat went in the water, it would be soaked!
But just before the edge of the pond, the hat bumped into a bench and stopped.
Maysa ran faster. She was almost there. She reached out her hand.
And then another hand reached out too.
A boy was sitting on the bench. He had dark curly hair and a blue coat, and he had grabbed the hat just in time. He held it up.
"Is this yours?" he asked.
Maysa was so out of breath that she could only nod. Her cheeks were pink, and her hair was sticking out in every direction.
The boy held out the hat. "It almost went for a swim," he said, and he smiled a little shyly.
"Thank you," puffed Maysa. "Thank you so much. My grandmother made it."
She pulled the hat back on, tight this time, right over her ears.
Then she noticed that the boy was sitting all alone. A little wooden sailboat lay on the bench beside him. It had a white cloth sail and a blue hull, and a long string tied to its front so it could be pulled back to the shore. But the string was all tangled up in a big, messy knot.
"Is that your boat?" asked Maysa.
The boy nodded. "My name is Fares. We just moved here last week. I wanted to sail my boat because it is so windy. But the string got all knotted, and I cannot fix it by myself."
Maysa's mother had caught up by now. She was standing a little way off, watching and smiling.
Maysa sat down on the bench next to Fares. "Let me help," she said. "My grandmother knits. She says the secret to a knot is to be gentle. If you pull hard, it gets worse."
So together, they worked on the knot. Fares held one end. Maysa found a loose loop and carefully pulled it through. Then another loop. Then another. The wind blew around them, and the ducks paddled on the pond, and slowly, slowly, the knot came undone.
"We did it!" cried Fares.
They ran down to the little stone edge of the pond. Fares set the boat gently on the water, and Maysa held the end of the string.
"Ready?" called Fares.
"Ready!" called Maysa.
Fares let go. The wind filled the white sail with a soft pop, and the little boat shot across the pond, bouncing over the ripples. The ducks paddled out of its way, quacking as if they were cheering.
"It is sailing!" shouted Maysa.
They took turns holding the string. When the boat reached the middle of the pond, they pulled it back, hand over hand, and sent it off again. Sometimes a gust tipped it over on its side, and they both gasped, but every time it bobbed right back up again. Sometimes the wind dropped, and the boat sat perfectly still on the water, as if it were taking a little rest.
Maysa's mother brought them a bag of warm roasted chestnuts from the cart by the gate. They sat on the grass and ate them, blowing on their fingers, watching the boat rock on the ripples.
Just then, the wind gave another big gust. Maysa grabbed her hat with one hand and the boat string with the other, and Fares grabbed her arm, and the three of them, Maysa, Fares, and the little boat, all held steady together.
"That wind is very naughty today," said Fares, laughing.
"It is," said Maysa. "But if it had not blown my hat away, I would never have met you."
Fares thought about that. Then he grinned. "Then thank you, wind," he said.
When it was time to go home, Fares wound up the boat string carefully, so it would not tangle again. His father came to meet him, and Maysa's mother talked with him for a little while. It turned out that Fares's family lived just two streets away.
"Can we sail the boat again next windy day?" asked Fares.
"Yes!" said Maysa. "I will wear my hat. But this time, I will tie it on."
That night, the wind was still whistling around the house. Maysa lay in bed and listened to it. She did not mind it at all now. In fact, she hoped it would blow again very soon.
"It is a very windy day," said Maysa's mother, looking out of the window. "Wear your hat, or your ears will get cold."
Maysa's hat was her favorite thing. It was bright yellow, made of soft, woolly knitting, with a fluffy yellow pompom on top. Her grandmother had made it for her. Maysa pulled it on, and her mother tied her scarf, and they set off together for the park.
Outside, the wind was even stronger. It pushed against Maysa's back like a big friendly hand. It made her coat puff up. It blew leaves and bits of paper dancing along the pavement.
"Whee!" cried Maysa, holding out her arms. The wind pushed her along so fast that she almost felt like flying.
At the park gate, there came the biggest gust of all.
WHOOOOSH!
It swirled around Maysa and tugged at her scarf. And then, before she could grab it, it lifted the yellow hat right off her head.
"My hat!" cried Maysa.
The yellow hat sailed up into the air. It turned over and over, with its pompom bobbing. Then it came down on the path and began to roll, tumbling along like a little yellow ball.
Maysa ran after it.
The hat rolled past the swings. Maysa ran past the swings. It rolled past the big slide. Maysa ran past the big slide. Every time she got close and bent down to grab it, the wind blew again, and away it went.
"Come back, hat!" she called.
The hat rolled toward the duck pond. A family of brown ducks quacked in surprise as it bounced past them. Maysa's heart jumped. If the hat went in the water, it would be soaked!
But just before the edge of the pond, the hat bumped into a bench and stopped.
Maysa ran faster. She was almost there. She reached out her hand.
And then another hand reached out too.
A boy was sitting on the bench. He had dark curly hair and a blue coat, and he had grabbed the hat just in time. He held it up.
"Is this yours?" he asked.
Maysa was so out of breath that she could only nod. Her cheeks were pink, and her hair was sticking out in every direction.
The boy held out the hat. "It almost went for a swim," he said, and he smiled a little shyly.
"Thank you," puffed Maysa. "Thank you so much. My grandmother made it."
She pulled the hat back on, tight this time, right over her ears.
Then she noticed that the boy was sitting all alone. A little wooden sailboat lay on the bench beside him. It had a white cloth sail and a blue hull, and a long string tied to its front so it could be pulled back to the shore. But the string was all tangled up in a big, messy knot.
"Is that your boat?" asked Maysa.
The boy nodded. "My name is Fares. We just moved here last week. I wanted to sail my boat because it is so windy. But the string got all knotted, and I cannot fix it by myself."
Maysa's mother had caught up by now. She was standing a little way off, watching and smiling.
Maysa sat down on the bench next to Fares. "Let me help," she said. "My grandmother knits. She says the secret to a knot is to be gentle. If you pull hard, it gets worse."
So together, they worked on the knot. Fares held one end. Maysa found a loose loop and carefully pulled it through. Then another loop. Then another. The wind blew around them, and the ducks paddled on the pond, and slowly, slowly, the knot came undone.
"We did it!" cried Fares.
They ran down to the little stone edge of the pond. Fares set the boat gently on the water, and Maysa held the end of the string.
"Ready?" called Fares.
"Ready!" called Maysa.
Fares let go. The wind filled the white sail with a soft pop, and the little boat shot across the pond, bouncing over the ripples. The ducks paddled out of its way, quacking as if they were cheering.
"It is sailing!" shouted Maysa.
They took turns holding the string. When the boat reached the middle of the pond, they pulled it back, hand over hand, and sent it off again. Sometimes a gust tipped it over on its side, and they both gasped, but every time it bobbed right back up again. Sometimes the wind dropped, and the boat sat perfectly still on the water, as if it were taking a little rest.
Maysa's mother brought them a bag of warm roasted chestnuts from the cart by the gate. They sat on the grass and ate them, blowing on their fingers, watching the boat rock on the ripples.
Just then, the wind gave another big gust. Maysa grabbed her hat with one hand and the boat string with the other, and Fares grabbed her arm, and the three of them, Maysa, Fares, and the little boat, all held steady together.
"That wind is very naughty today," said Fares, laughing.
"It is," said Maysa. "But if it had not blown my hat away, I would never have met you."
Fares thought about that. Then he grinned. "Then thank you, wind," he said.
When it was time to go home, Fares wound up the boat string carefully, so it would not tangle again. His father came to meet him, and Maysa's mother talked with him for a little while. It turned out that Fares's family lived just two streets away.
"Can we sail the boat again next windy day?" asked Fares.
"Yes!" said Maysa. "I will wear my hat. But this time, I will tie it on."
That night, the wind was still whistling around the house. Maysa lay in bed and listened to it. She did not mind it at all now. In fact, she hoped it would blow again very soon.
