Potatoes, Carrots, Onion, Garlic, Dill

The icy cold wind nipped at his nose, and some of the exposed fingertips of his worn-out right glove, while his left hand stayed cozy nestled in the warmth of his mother's grip as they crossed the street to the market.

“Potatoes, carrots, onion, garlic, dill” she repeated for the hundredth time. She never made lists, she just remembered everything she needed — and drilled it into his head— by repeating the items in an almost sing-song manner “potatoes, carrots, onion, garlic, dill,” she repeated for the hundred and first time.

AJ loved the winter market, the holiday spirit, the cheer wafting as heavily in the air as the smells clove and nutmeg. He always hoped they’d have enough change leftover for a small cup of spiced apple cider when they were done buying the potatoes and the carrots and the onion, garlic and dill. But his mother never miscounted, she always had exactly the right amount, without more than a penny or two to spare.

Sometimes in the summer, he’d wander off and sneak a grape or a strawberry but here, there wasn’t much to sneak. He wandered off still.

He strolled past the root vegetables where his mother had stopped to browse, following the scent of roasted, candied nuts and the cinnamon overtones of freshly baked gingerbread until he found himself among the snacks and sweets stalls, the aroma of spiced wine and cider hanging heavy in the thick winter air.

He walked along, deeply admiring their wares, devouring it all with his eyes as he passed each stand, until he came to the end of the market, to a stand that stood in stark contrast to the other bare wood and dark-green-roofed stands; inviting and unattended, it boasted dark stained wood and a candy-cane-pinstriped awning, it’s chalkboard covered in doodles of pastries and fruits.

He poked his head around, but there was neither a worker nor market goer in sight, the stand’s only attendant appearing to be a little garden gnome in a pointy red hat.

 AJ looked to the glass display case, empty, mostly, behind pie-less labels of “pumpkin” and “pecan” and the usual late fall and winter treats. Behind one label, however, sat one single pie tin, one single slice remaining within. “Strawberry Rhubarb” the little label read.

AJ’s eyes lit up, his mouth watered in Pavlovian anticipation as he imagined scooping up it’s streusel top and digging into the acidic sweetness of its strawberry rhubarb filling. He checked his surroundings, unfamiliar, and empty in the quiet off-shoot of the market. He peered around the stand again.

“Hello?” He called into the silent darkness behind the counter.

Nobody answered.

He inched his way behind the counter, slowly, pausing between each step, turning his head casually from side to side as to catch anyone trying to catch him.

Finally, halfway behind the counter, with one leg out, he wrapped his arm around to reach into the display case and tear off a chunk of pie.

It made him pucker, sourer than he expected, as if they’d forgotten to add sugar, but it’s addictive lack of current seasonal flavors made him reach for more, and more, until he’d devoured the entire slice in a few quick, barbaric handfuls.

He wiped the sticky, crumby remnants from his face with his tattered glove, and from his tattered glove on his corduroys, as he coolly came out from behind the counter.

He looked around and no one still. He looked back to the display case where the single slice of pie once stood, and now, to his amazement, stood again.

“Have another,” the label now read, in place of the earlier “Strawberry Rhubarb.”

He looked around again, this time, not casually but frantically.

“Did you enjoy?” Came a voice from within the stillness.

AJ jumped before nodding silently at the formless voice.

“Do you miss summer?”

He nodded again.

The tiny man in the pointy red hat stepped forward, “More streuselkuchen?” He offered, his little ceramic face breaking into a tiny smile.

AJ shook his head slowly, “no, thank you.”

“Was it not good?”

“Very good,” he spoke in a whisper.

“We’re having a feast, you know? Here in the mountain!”

AJ stood confused.

The gnome-like figure hopped down from his spot on the countertop and made his way with his tiny legs to a pinstriped curtain.

Pulling a drawn string, he revealed to the boy something fantastic!

He motioned for the boy to step through the doorway, past the curtain, into the lush green landscape before him where a feast was taking place, and AJ was to be the guest of honor.

The boy stood in amazement, making his way towards the curtain as if drawn by something beyond his own willpower, “but… my… mother,” he breathed in rhythm with the steps he half attempted to resist.

“Oh, don’t worry; she won’t worry!” The gnome answered cheerfully.

From beyond the curtain he pulled by the hand another young boy, one of AJ’s exact likeness, save a much bigger head and a brand-new pair of hole-less mittens on his hands.

“She won’t even notice!” The gnome laughed as he took AJ by his hand and led him into eternal summer, into his streselkuchen-sealed fate.