"I've kept it a secret, but for you I wiil tell,What happened a long time ago, still I remember it well." That's how the story began, as did all my grandmother's stories. On this how ever she told with a kind of urgent conviction, as if she needed me to truly believe. She was your typical grandmother, you know baking, bedmaking, gardening, that sort of thing. But when it came to story telling none were better. Little did I know that the times we spent together would later be my most cherished memories. As usual I fought against sleep but with my grandmother's calm voice to distract me and little else it was a battle already lost. Rocking slowly back and fourth I watched her and her shadow keep time with the rhythm of her tale. She never read from any book, instead the things she told could only be found in dreams. And it was my dreams I put them back. The bed felt a little softer when ever she made it up for me and my midnight snack of cookies and milk became sweeter with her touch. To this day nothing ever tasted or felt as good. I lay there in the warm embrace of my bed and comforting sounds of that sweet old lady. In a voice cracked with age she continued."Out past the town, beyond the meadows and treesto a place known only by birds and small bumble bees.Where flowers make colors bright as a rainbowand perfumes the air when the wind gently blows.The breeze was also filled with the songs of the birdsin chorus they sang with high chirping words.Moss covered the trees as they reached for the skythat was bluer than blue with clouds drifting by.To a pond ran a stream with frogs leaping nearit's cool water refreshed the fox and the deer.It was this place I had found, one day on my ownso far back into the woods, so far from my home.I followed a path made by squirrle's tiny feetalong I found berries that were juicy and sweet.Only once did I stop to have a good laughas I watched a slow moving turtle cross over my path.Then off I went with a pace that was quickwhile tapping the ground with my walking stick.Finally I grew tired so I decided to stopI glimpsed the small jump of a rabbits scared hop.But what flew off his back was the strangest of thingsfor lying on the ground was a fairy with a bent wing.Cautiously I crept to where she still lay"Are you all right?" Was all I could say.With a tear in her eye caused by her wing's hurtshe brushed off grass leaves and pieces of dirt.And then in song she spoke softly to mewhile I towered over her as tall as a tree."I beg you please, I need your help,"her pain and fear I suddenly felt." Interupting my grandmother I tiredly asked, "What did you do grand mom?" Slowly she leaned in close and tucked the blanket tightly around me. As if I were in her arms, I felt my body melt into the soft blankets hug. This was the kind of magic that only a grandmother can make. She eased herself back and with a faint smile she continued."I told the little fairy, "Don't go any where,"as I gathered two leaves and the bow from my hair.I placed her bent wing between the two leavesthey were held with my bow, the fairy was pleased.For the rest of the day, together we playedbut the shadows grew long as light started to fade."How do I get home?" I said with a tearin my voice the fairy heard the sound of my fear."Hold me close," the fairy said, "You'll see with my glow,""I'll light up the path making it easy to follow."Before long I was home but it was dark and latethrough the window I saw my mother nervously wait.Back in my hair returned the ribbon bow tieno longer needed, the fairy now able to fly.I entered my home, my mother happy and madgone were the small fairy and the fun that we had.My mother's replied to what happened that day"Just forget you ever saw it, it's better that way." Gathering the last of my waking energy I asked, "Why did she say that grand mom?" Exhausted and shaky she answered, "I scared her so bad when I came home so late." With a sigh and a pause she said in a sad low voice, "My dear, it's a scare only a parent can feel." I barely heard the words when sleep finally took me. I remember waking to my mother lying close to me. Her eyes red and swollen betraying the smile she desperately tried to make. I remember the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she spoke of a better place and how happy grand mom now was. But most of all I remember everything my grand mother said. I tell her tales now to my grand child from notes I made to better remember. And as each is read I save the place I left off with a ribbon once worn in my grand mother's hair.