At Last. The End

The flowers had been paying close attention to every word. Now they all looked around at each other. The little buttercup felt ashamed and spoke up. “I am sorry. You are right. There is no better place for me than where I am growing and living now. Thank you for your story that helped me to realize this.”


The rest of the flowers swayed in agreement.

“You are very welcome. Oh, and here comes the little boy now,” said the tree, as an old man slowly walked toward the garden.

“Our gardener?” asked the buttercup.

“That’s right. He was once the little boy that ran to listen to his mother’s stories under my growing branches. He is now much older. He did not come to visit for a long time, then began to come and read stories to his children when they were young, and now…”

“Grandpa, grandpa,” said two young children excitedly. “Look, the flowers are all so pretty!”

“I see a pretty lily.” the little girl said, as she ran up to one plant.

“And here is a cute little buttercup!” said the boy.

The old man greeted the blooming flowers. Then he sat under the big tree and watched the children run and play. After a few moments he pulled out an old book and the children came running to listen to the stories. Above, the wise old tree towered. By now, he knew that book very well, and he listened to the stories about forests and deserts, mountains and plains. He was happy though, in this big beautiful garden. The tree looked down at the flowers, and could tell they were now quietly listening to the stories as well. He knew they were happy too, for they had learned, through the story that the wise tree shared with them, how to be content in the special place they are.