GREEN VALLEY

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Not when my grandma was a kid. I guess Green Valley was just – well – green, back then.

I used to bug my dad to tell me about when the dragons arrived. He’d get all grumpy and mumble about, “What is that woman filing your head with?” He meant his mom. And that she’d tell me all sorts of stories – which I adored.

Actually, I adored Grandma herself. Her stories were a bonus. If I could have, I think I would have lived with Grandma. My parents were fine – mom’s cooking was good, I shared my bed with only two other sisters, sometimes Mom or Dad mentioned they loved us. But Grandma – now that’s where my heart lived.

There were a lot of us - us grandkids. There were a lot of her own kids, too. Which is one way to get a lot of grandkids, of course. I was the fourth child of eight. And Grandma was the fourth child of twelve. I always thought Fourth Child must be a special designation – only the best children could be a Fourth Child.

I kept that belief for a lot of years, probably until I was ten or eleven. And I started following Grandma around when I was three. It was when my younger sister Gabby was born. Mom was tied down with Gabby and I could wander off before she really noticed.

Not that I actually “wandered” anywhere. I always headed straight across the beet field to Grandma’s cabin. The rows of beets made straight lines between our house and hers. All I had to do was pick a row and walk it. Didn't matter if it took twenty minutes. I’d end up at Grandma’s.

Once at Grandma’s, there was no place else I wanted to be. My parents never had to worry I’d go off exploring somewhere else. It was Grandma I wanted.

Never mattered what she was working with that day, either. She’d hand me a hoe and let me wrestle with the long handle while she made short work of weeds between her rows of peas or beans. Or she’d set me up on the stool next to the butter churn, telling me to “hold it steady now,” while she pumped the handle up and down.

Like I said, it didn’t matter what we worked on – because she told The Stories. The Stories all happened in Green Valley. The Stories happened to people just like me and Grandma. Well, not just me and Grandma - the people were like everyone else in the Valley. They weren’t living in castles or cities or something. I mean, these were real people, you know what I mean?

The Stories must have been short when I was short myself. How long can a three-year-old listen? But what I remember are the long stories. The stories that took two or three days to tell.

And the stories about the dragons. Everyone knew those were my favorites. I’d come home for dinner and all I wanted to talk about were the dragons. I’d jabber on and on about dragons, but my brothers would scowl at me. My sisters would look away and shake their heads. My mom would pat my hand and shush me.

They never talked about dragons. You weren’t supposed to talk about the dragons.

My dad started talking about keeping me home from Grandma’s. I stopped talking about dragons.

Do you know – can you believe – that some people, even today, still don’t believe the dragons are real? I mean, there are whole scorched fields every April. Obviously, the new dragon babies need to learn to aim better. And they must, because the fields aren’t scorched in July.

Anyway, because people in Green Valley don’t agree about dragons, it’s hard for a kid to get information about them. It’s not like you can hike to the lake, walk up to a nest and look for yourself. Well, maybe you could. I never tried. I never heard of any other kid doing it, either. Since we all went to the same school in Green Valley, I would have heard.

What I could hear about was what Grandma told me. Grandma lived here before the dragons, and she lived here after the dragons. Well, I don’t mean after-after – it’s not like they’ve left. I mean she was here when they first showed up. Back when people didn’t argue over whether they existed or not. Back when no one knew if dragons were a help or a problem.

And I don’t know if anyone else ever listened to Grandma long enough to learn her secret.