When the Seasons Met Their Mother

Before the Seasons became the four stations Earth would pass through, they were my daughters. Their names were not Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Summer, as your fathers have since called them, for these terms refer to what they did in my garden, not who they were.

Before I continue, allow me first to give you something.

Without raising his head, the bearded man procured from his right-hand pocket a pair of tinted glasses; dirty and worn, though not nearly as much as his wide-brimmed hat and yellow coat. I can’t imagine what the inside of his pocket looks like. With a deep and grave voice, he continued.

         I’ve had these spectacles since me and my girls first began work on my garden. At the time it was a cold and barren patch of land — littered with boulders and pebbles upon which not even moss could grow. But I had a mind about me to change it, for I envisioned that on that patch of land we could make something beautiful, unlike any other god had envisioned. I put down my staff and rolled up my sleeves, and said to my dears: “By the light of the sun and the glow of the moon, we shall put ourselves to work until we make something very good.” And none of them disputed. I then grabbed the bundle at the end of my staff and pulled from it four different objects for each of my girls to use. To my eldest, Sanaya, I gave a lyre with strings made from comet tails. With it, she could instruct any of her sisters, wherever they may be, on when to do each of their tasks and when to cease for the day. To my second, Naiko, I gave a cloak with which she may fly to where water hides, scoop it up, and fly it back. To my third, Avela, I gave a box, upon which she could stand to reach the tallest branches, and into which she could put whatever may need to be gathered. My youngest, Piani, received nothing from me, for I saw she needed nothing I could give her. You will see in a moment how this decision resulted in the best outcome for her. Lean forward, please.

         The sound of his voice frightened me, but in a different way. I did not say anything to oppose his request, but rather did as told. When I heard the temples of the glasses snap open, I closed my eyes, and gritted my teeth at the thought of having such filthy things on my face. A moment later, I felt the grime of dirt rub against my ears and the bridge of my nose. Simultaneously, I detected through my closed eyelids a strange glow that bid my eyes open.

~ ~ ~

         “Girls!” cried the old man.

         He rose up the slope of the hill, so fresh and brilliantly green, that I dare say it was covered in emerald shards. He trekked towards the four women he had previously told me about. When I laid my eyes on them, I was immediately perplexed by their extraordinary beauty. Not a beauty like I would see in magazines back home. They were rather something lost to time.

         I noticed each of them carrying something in hand. The tallest — with an albino complexion and dreads — clutched to her chest a pearly lyre. She must have been Sanaya, who is Summer. In front of her was a woman, short in hair and short in stature. Beneath her foot, she placed a mahogany box. Avela; Autumn. I assume beside her was Naiko     Winter     for she wore a gilded blue cloak glinting in the evening sun. And lastly, sitting quite dejected, was Piani, or Spring; who in her tightly wound ruddy jerkin and muddy boots, struggled to hold a dandelion straight.

“Why have you gathered us here in the middle of the day?” asked Naiko.

“Yes, Papa. What is so pressing that you had us rush over here?” asked Piani, pouting.

“Shh, sisters,” said Sanaya. “The more you talk, the longer he will take to tell us.”

“Thank you, Sanaya,” he said. “My daughters. As you know, I have been away by the sixth river, preparing a new development for my garden. I have told you already of the bodily beasts who walk about, not like plants.”

“Yes, Papa. In fact, I was with one about an hour ago,” Piani got to her feet. “It was the lioness, Darianna. She gave birth to a cub, you see. And I was about to take it to Adom so he could name her, when suddenly you called us away, and I had to leave the cub with its mother, nameless!” Again, she sat down, very cross.

The old man, who they called Papa, chuckled softly.

“Dear Piani,” he spoke gently. “Were you to look for Adom at that time, you would not have found him, for he was with me, asleep.”

“How absurd,” said Naiko. “Asleep, in the middle of the day? Had he missed the sunrise? Sanaya’s lyre?”

“Not at all,” said Papa. “I had brought him into a deep sleep by my own hand, so when he would awaken, I could surprise him with a new friend.”

The four girls gasped in unison. Piani grabbed onto her sister Avila giddily and hopped up and down. Avila was not amused by her clinginess.

“You mean you made a new creation? What is it, Papa? A bird? A fish? A bird-fish?”

Piani’s yellow eyes, a trait she shared with her sisters, glowed with ever more intensity the longer she waited for a response.

“Of the same race as Adom. But she will be different from Adom, in that she will not only parent the earthly creatures, but the heavenly ones as well.”

The glow from Piani’s eyes suddenly dimmed into a dull amber hue. The four daughters became quite confused, and mildly concerned from the looks of it.

“What do you mean, Papa? What are you saying?” asked Naiko.

“Chavah, for that is what she has been called, will be your new mother.”

A ruckus erupted that left no room for reason.

“A mother? Papa, we don’t need a mother,” scoffed Avila.

“More so an earthly one. If she is anything like Adom, then she is just as small and naive as him. Why would you suggest such a thing?” argued Sanaya.

“A mother…” Piani didn’t really know what to make of it.

And Naiko didn’t say anything. She simply put up her hood, turned around, and walked away. As she did so, Papa watched her with pity in his heart, then turned his eyes back to the group.

“It is good that you have a mother,” he said. “And you will see. The more you get to know her, the more you will understand why.”

“No, I don’t think we will understand,” said Sanaya before departing.

Avila took her foot off her box, picked it up, and followed after without another word.

Piani muttered on: “A mother… a mother… mother…”

~ ~ ~

         I followed behind them as they marched in a file formation to Adom’s house. As we arrived, I noticed how extraordinarily peculiar his homestead seemed to be. Something akin to a gazebo, with wonderful curtains acting as walls. Leading to the entrance was a walkway lined with lavender and lilies, and quite frightening, there was a lioness lying on the welcome mat.

“Darianna!” exclaimed Piani, rushing up to the animal’s side.

The lioness turned her head up slowly, and I could hardly believe it, but I think I saw her smile.

“Is this who I think it is?” said Piani.

Without a second thought, she picked up a day-old lion cub from its mother’s side and cradled it in her palms.

“Hellu, Gaanu,” she gushed over it.

“You’re here!” said a voice.

A young man with curly red hair spread open the drapes blocking the entrance and tied them to the posts.

“She’s been inside all day,” he said, looking down at Darianna. “I thought I’d let her sit out here for some fresh air, but it turns out now is when she’s most disruptive! How are you, sisters?”

He came out wearing nothing but a tunic that draped down to his knees, and hugged and kissed each of his guests (excluding myself, as I remained invisible), calling them sister, or Papa. Immediately after, he gave each of them a separate tunic to wear, and with sheer indifference, they all changed then and there. I did the proper thing and averted my eyes. When I did, I noticed as I looked down that my own clothes had also changed on their own. Had this happened now or earlier, I do not know. But my clothes were gone, and in their place I wore nothing but a tunic. When I looked up again, each of the women and the old man had finished changing and stepped inside.

“She’s still taking it all in, so be mindful of that,” said Adom.

“Certainly,” said Papa.

I might have thought he was referring to the lioness on his doorstep, unbothered when Adom hastily grabbed her by the nape and urged her to the side. He was instead talking about the woman we had come to see.

Upon crossing the threshold, a silence fell over us like a cool blanket. In the soft blue hue the sun cast through the drapes walling-in the gazebo, there was a young woman lying beneath linen sheets. As we came closer, I saw her messy barley hair coming down to her neck. Though I did not lay a finger on it, I could feel it; as soft as a newborn’s head. Her face was crease-less, and her eyes were glossy wet. She didn’t turn her gaze as we came into her awareness. Instead, her breath quickened, as if she had only moments ago experienced something powerful.

Slowly, Papa approached her, and placed his hand on her spotless face. She looked at him, and paced her breath.

“Hello, Chavah.”

Again, in hearing him speak, I felt his words frighten me. But if you can imagine it, I felt afraid of what I can only describe as being too safe. So safe, in fact, that I felt bare. I recoiled in unease. When I did, I took the chance to see the others standing beside me, observing as Papa whispered sweet things into the woman’s (Chavah’s) ear. None shared the same reaction as me. Theirs were rather different.

“She’s so pretty,” Piani whispered to Adom. “She truly is the greatest of Papa’s creations.”

Adom wasn’t one bit bothered by this comment. Instead his smile spread even wider.

“And I get to be with her every day,” he said merrily.

Naiko looked ahead with melancholia on her countenance. I could in no way tell what she was thinking. The same with Avila, as she focused on tracing her toe along a swirling pattern in the carpet. But Sanaya, she was clearly not at peace. I couldn’t call it a scowl, but she held a sour glare when she watched Papa stroke Chavah’s hair with such gentle affection.

I didn’t understand how Naiko, Avila, and Sanaya could feel the way they did when everything about this was so pure. Perhaps they’re so familiar with it that they don’t realize what they have.

“Chavah,” Papa said so we could hear. “This is your family. Come near, girls.”

Piani was the first to approach, and went on her knees before Chavah. She whispered blessings to her new sister and mother. Amongst them was: “I can’t wait to get to know you.”

Avila went next, and said little. Instead, she lifted her box and pulled from it a red apple, which she presented to Chavah as an offering of amity. Upon reaching her hands, Chavah took a small bite out of the apple and chewed it slowly. It was very amusing to see her eyes widen with delight at its sugary taste.

Afterward, Naiko removed her cloak which she wore over her tunic, and laid it over Chavah. It must have been dry and warm, as she snuggled into it with no hesitation whatsoever.

“I want to play a song for the woman,” said Sanaya.

Before Naiko pulled away, Sanaya took a seat at Chavah’s feet and set her lyre down on her lap.

“A melody, in honor of our new sister, and mother.”

She put her nail to the string and plucked. But I heard no sound. She proceeded to pinch and tap the lyre in harmonious rhythm; its strings sparking like live-wire encased in ice. Still, no sound from it reached my ears.

I saw from the corner of my eye Papa rocking his head like a boat on the waves, and Piani, with her frizzy hair running down to her chest, twirling and dipping as if a ghost danced with her.

The only ghost in the room was me. I could not feel or hear the music in any perceivable way. For the first time in many hours, I remembered that I was the visitor, and could not stay.

I felt the tinted-glasses on my face. I was fortunate not to have pushed them off by accident since I had arrived. But perhaps, this was a good time to depart. I had seen Papa and his four beautiful daughters. I had come to stand a foot away from a lion and her cub. All I had left was to take off these glasses and go home. Yet I felt a tugging in my heart to approach Chavah and make my own offering like the others had. There was nothing on my person; even my clothes had been replaced by this strange tunic, which made me no more visible than I was before. Perhaps a simple gesture of affection. A kiss on the cheek. It was the least I could do.

I passed between Sanaya as she played, and Papa as he rocked his head. I wormed around Piani whilst she danced, and stepped by Naiko and Avila as they sat listening. Next to Adom I positioned myself, and hovered over Chavah, taking one last look at the mother of the Seasons before I gave my last goodbye.

Then I descended, and placed my lips against her tender cheek. I held it there for a few seconds, then receded and took a few steps back.

As I pinched the grimy temples of the glasses, Chavah began to moan. Sanaya stopped touching her lyre, and all turned their heads to see her behave more and more strangely.

“Chavah, what’s wrong?” asked Adom.

She began to writhe erratically in her bed, and make hacking sounds, as if she’d begun to choke.

Piani threw herself at Chavah’s bedside and grabbed onto her arm in an attempt to calm her.

“Someone did this,” said Sanaya. “Avila, where did you get the apple you gave her?”

Avila furrowed her brows. “Are you assuming I caused this? Why don’t you ask Naiko? She’s the one who last touched her.”

“Me?” said Naiko. “She started acting this way while you played your lyre. It is those strings that have hurt her ears!”

When she said this, Naiko took six steps forwards and yanked the strings off Sanaya’s harp. As soon as this happened, the strings wiped a burst of snow and ice over the room and over Chavah. She writhed herself out of Naiko’s cloak, and pushed it off the bed with her feet.

“My girls, let there be peace!” exclaimed Papa. “Anger will not solve anything!”

But before his words could reach their hearts, Sanaya already stole Avila’s box from beside the bed, and threw it violently at Naiko. Against the comet strings it burst to splinters, and by the strings’ fiery nature, the shards were set ablaze and set the gazebo on fire. Sanaya, hot with rage, ignored the disaster about her and used the longest piece of burning wood she could find to battle her younger sister.

Amidst the chaos, Avila picked up Naiko’s cloak from the ground, and shook it up and down in an attempt to dissipate the flames with air. She soon realized the error in her judgement, as instead of extinguishing the fire, she caused it to blow against the curtains and burn them up as well.

“Enough!” cried Papa. Like a brewing storm, he grew in size to the height of the gazebo’s ceiling, and his whole appearance turned from light to dark.

“Since the moment I first told you of Chavah becoming your new mother, you have grown bitter and careless in your hearts. Now you have brought upon her and Adom needless suffering. Piani alone has shown gentleness and compassion. For this, she will remain without punishment. The three of you, however,” he said, directing his words to Sanaya, Naiko, and Avila. “The three of you will labor from now on without your original gifts, and will instead be forced to use the broken gifts of your sisters to do your work. And due to your animosity, none of you will be allowed to be with each other at the same time. Instead, Sanaya will meet Avila once her duties are finished, Avila will meet Naiko after hers, and Naiko will meet Piani last. Sanaya and Naiko will never meet again.”

Once he had finished speaking, before anyone could say another word, he materialized his staff in his hand, and thumped it on the ground. A powerful wind blew outwards, and all the flames were dispersed, but so were the sisters.

~ ~ ~

         My glasses were blown clean off my face in the outburst, and I rolled backwards. I was back in the alleyway were my conversation with the old man began.

         The old man, Papa, scooped up his glasses, and slipped them into his coat pocket.

         Tears began to stream down my face.

         “It’s all my fault. I was not meant to be there. I shouldn’t have given Chavah that kiss.”

         In that moment, Papa got on his knees and leaned forward. His right hand, he placed on my face, and brushed my tears away.

         Did I not send you to my garden? Did I not know what was to happen?

         I looked at him. Under his wide-brimmed hat were eyes the colors of the Earth. In his gaze, I felt my chest immediately decompress.

Chavah was in my perfect watch. No deadly peril could befall her. What you gave her was the kiss of a son; for like my daughters, you belong to her too. And in your kiss was true love, but also true sadness. A sadness that began long ago, when three of my daughters grew prideful, and cursed Chavah and each other with suspicion and violence. All you did was alert Chavah to a destined future. A future in which she and Adom would inevitably lose the garden to the Seasons’ ice and flames. A future in which you, one of her beloved children, would lose his own home in a fire, and be forced to beg in these snowy alleyways.

         “You saw my house burn down? My days of loitering?”

         I have. And as I have watched your Mother, and all of her children since, so now do I watch you. Do not be afraid. I will bring you out of this time, as soon as Winter turns to Spring.

         I cried again, only this time with tears of joy. I cried into Papa’s arms all through the night, until the morning-sun cast its rays against the skyrises in golden strokes, and I felt someone else hold me up straight and whisper blessings into my ear.