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A Bedtime Story of Hope…

Once upon a time a young boy was complaining to his Mother Grand about his flying craft and how it wasn’t flying as fast as he wanted it to.  He tinkered with it, using both tools and his mind to enhance the beautiful machine.  Mother Grand watched with love and humor in her eyes.

“There was a time in your mother grand’s life where we didn’t have flying craft,” she said quietly.

The young boy looked at her with eyes wide.  “How did you get around mother grand?” he asked.

“Automobiles,” she replied.

“Auto mo what?” the young boy asked, looking quite perplexed.

“Automobiles,” she corrected.  “We also called them cars.  We drove them on roads.”

“But they could fly right?” her grandson asked.

Mother grand shook her head.  “No.  We operated them with a steering wheel, an engine and wheels.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” he said, wrinkled nose, shaking his head.

“Well compared to what we have today, no, it wasn’t much fun,” she said, laughing quietly.

“Tell me more about old earth mother grand,” the boy asked.

“Ok.  What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Well, how did you live?  What did you do with your time?” he asked with interest.

“We worked jobs,” she said.

“Oh I heard about that from mom and dad,” he said.  “Why did you have to work jobs again?”

“To make money to live.  To eat.  To shelter ourselves,” she said.

“That doesn’t sound fair.  I’m glad no one has to do that here,” he replied.

Mother grand sighed, remembering times past.  She ran her hand through her grandson’s hair.  “So am I, honey,” she said.

Quiet fell between the two of them.  The young boy continued to work on his craft.

“Would you like a meal?” mother grand asked the boy.

“Yes, please.”

Mother grand went inside, walked over to the food replicator and coded in “Spaghetti with meatballs”.  As that was prepared, she walked to the side of the house and picked a couple of peaches and a handful of berries off the trees.  Minutes later she brought the food to her grandson, who, smiling at her, proceeded to inhale the bounty.

Some things never do change, she thought, smiling to herself.

“Mother grand,” the boy asked, “on old earth, how long did people live?”

“Well that depends,” she said.

“On what?”

“Oh lots of things.  Where you lived.  What you ate.  How much money you earned.  It’s much different today,” she said.  This was a painful subject for her, having seen too many of her friends and loved ones succumb to disease or struggle with health issues on old earth that today were easily healed.

“How is it different?” he asked.

“Well today if the body begins to show any sign of distress, you have the option of using your mind or visiting the healing center to heal.  On old earth, while people knew the power of the mind to heal, we were constantly assaulted with all sorts of nasty poisons that made healing very difficult and often only temporary,” she said.

“Poisons?” the young boy asked.  “What do you mean?”

Mother grand paused, reminding herself some things weren’t spoken of in the new earth – not that it was forbidden – nothing was forbidden here – all was allowed in so long as the creation did not power over another.  No, poisons were not spoken of because the term had no reason to exist here.

“Poisons were things created and used in the old earth to make people and plants, all life, sick,” she said.

Her grandson looked at her with confusion in his eyes.  While there were schools that discussed old earth, not all chose to learn of the old ways.  Her grandson was limited in his knowledge of how things once were.

“Why would someone do that?” he finally asked, his voice a whisper.

Mother grand looked down, overcome with emotion.  She took a few moments to come up with an answer that would make some sense.  She shared what made the most sense to her heart.

“Simply because some people made that choice,” she said quietly, looking directly in her grandson’s eyes.

The gaze was held for several moments, the grandson finally looking off into the direction of the vast forest that surrounded their home.  A look of sadness was around him for a bit.  Mother grand merely observed him, knowing he would speak when he was ready.

“I’m quite grateful people don’t make choices like that now,” he said finally, looking at his grandmother.

“Me too sweetheart,” said mother grand, taking his hand.  “Me too.”

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Victoria

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