Speaking blade of grass

You won’t recognize a twin flame right away, but when you look back from a distance, you’ll see that there were signs…

Speaking blade of grass

He came to the meadow every day. He would sit under an old oak tree, close his eyes and spend hours thinking, turning a blade of grass between his teeth.

– I was wondering when you would finally have the courage to approach me – he said, not opening his eyes as I came closer to him.

I froze motionless, forgetting to speak my mind. I had prepared a dialogue in my head that I would have with him, but it had nothing to do with the first sentence that came out of his mouth.

– You will not say anything? – he asked in response to my silence.

– I had my answer ready for “hey” – I replied, slightly confused.

He opened one of his eyelids, tilted his head to the side and looked at me from under a net of thick, black eyelashes.

– People are rarely able to live up to our expectations, so it’s best not to write scripts in your head at all – he said, shrugging.

– Apparently – I muttered and took a seat on the opposite side of the tree.

An awkward silence fell between us, interrupted from time to time by the sounds of nature coming from the area.

– You wanted to ask something – the boy sitting on the other side finally said.

I quickly analyzed the conversation in my head, trying to find any sign of willingness to ask questions, but to no avail. I looked over my shoulder to check if the grass he constantly had in his mouth wasn’t one of those types of grass that allowed for a different perception of reality, but no – it was just ordinary grass, like the ones everywhere. I also noticed a fresh scratch on his cheek. He even looks like he’s wandering around where he shouldn’t be, I thought.

– I? – I asked, surprised – Where did this conclusion come from?

He smiled to himself and spat out the remains of the plant from his mouth. He opened his eyes and then turned to me.

– After a week of observation, you finally decided to approach me – he replied – You definitely want to ask something.

I stared into his dark, penetrating eyes, trying to extract a sensible question from the void of thoughts, and when nothing came to my mind, I decided to grab the only lifeline that could get me out of this unequal staring fight: I said anything.

– Why do you wear the same pants all the time? – I blurted out in one breath.

When the question reached my ears, I quickly hid behind the tree trunk and hid my face in my hands in embarrassment. You could come up with anything: “What’s your name?”; “What are you doing here?”; “What is your favorite color?” – anything other than. “Why do you wear the same pants all the time”… Bravo! – I scolded myself mentally, adjusting the white tulle skirt lying on my lap. – Snob!

– Because they are the most comfortable – I heard a calm answer behind me.

I straightened up, letting out the air I was holding in my lungs with relief. He wasn’t offended.

– I’m very sorry – I said, leaning slightly towards him – This is probably the stupidest question I’ve ever thought of.
– No question that has a logical answer is stupid – The boy shrugged and returned to his previous position.

There’s something to it – I thought and also leaned against my part of the trunk. I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the birds singing above our heads, and I managed to doze off for a few minutes, and when I came back to consciousness, he was gone.

Over the next few days, I visited him in the meadow regularly. I even chose special pants for this purpose, in which I could easily sit on the grass without fear of sharing the sad fate of the skirt, which unfortunately lost the battle with the dandelion. Every evening, when I got home, I put them in a bowl of water, washed them, hung them out in the yard, and the next day they were ready to use again. Brilliant system – I praised my friend in my mind.

– It’s good if they have a hole, then you’re not sorry to damage them at all – he encouraged, and then showed a small tear on the right leg.
I wasn’t ready for such a radical step…

– Why do you keep chewing grass? – I asked one day, seeing him for another time with a straw between his teeth.

He moved it with his tongue into the corner of his mouth.

– I’m not chewing it, it’s foreplay – he replied with a clearly noticeable seriousness in his voice, and then returned to his original activity.
– Before what? – I decided to continue the thread – Before you eat it? – I asked with undisguised disgust.

He frowned and looked at me through half-closed eyes, then took the crumpled straw out of his mouth and straightened up.

– You’re vulgar – he said reproachfully – I’m not a cannibal, we’re just talking – he shrugged.
– You are talking? – I looked at him mockingly – And what does the grass tell you?

The boy responded with the same look, then closed his eyes, placed the blade in parallel between the thumbs of both hands and blew into the small space between them. A loud whistle rang in the air and echoed to the distant ends of the meadow. He waited for the sound to finish its journey, reverently folded the plant on his leg, and opened his eyes.

– The grass says you’re not at our level of initiation – He shrugged, put the battered green ribbon back into his mouth and stretched out comfortably under the tree.

I shook off the strange thoughts racing through my head about the blade disappearing into his mouth and rose from the ground.

– You’re crazy – I said, brushing the dandelion fluff off my clothes and heading towards the house.

However, the truth was that I admired him for his otherness and contact with nature, which I had never been able to capture, but I decided not to spoil him with flattery.

– I also immediately noticed that we had something in common – with a clearly noticeable smile in his voice, he shouted behind me.

He taught me how to talk to grass for the next two weeks – without much success.

– You don’t ask her questions, so what should she tell you? – he explained when, irritated, I threw the tired plant behind me.
– What should I ask the grass about? – I said angrily.
– About everything – he replied lightly – Grasses have a lot of knowledge that the average person will never be able to acquire.
Knowledge they don’t want to share with me, I added in my thoughts.

That lesson was interrupted by the appearance of a strange man. He looked much older than the boy, and certainly less friendly. When he saw him, he whistled loudly – I didn’t like it. Boy uttered some curse under his breath, told me to practice talking to the grass, and joined the man waiting for him.

It’s been three months since I last saw him.
I still come to the meadow and sit under the old oak tree, waiting for the boy who could make a blade of grass talk.