From Disaster Comes Good by D.A.Sanford - HTML preview

What has become of this world

Ralph is now getting on In years. They never put a year start when they first came. His children have children and are now feeling the same experience that we did. Some are still corrected when scolding a wayward child. Tom’s speech still echo’s when claws come out. The speech always has the same effect of sleeping or wandering.

Privately, each would get a hug from me or their mothers and be told that they did the same things. We have to watch out for the usual remark “So that’s why you look so old.”

We know that it is joking but with a worry.

There is now a section of our home lot that is now the world’s cemetery. Both my goblin parents and mouse folk parents are there. Sadly Sharon was the first of our generation. We woke in the morning but she did not. Even though I have Ilene and Della, the three of us sorely miss her. Our grandchildren knock the sadness out of us. They always do or say something at the right moment to break the mood.

There is only a stone at each grave with their name only.

The three of us are now the old sages. We settle disputes and offer advice. All the children of this world call us their grandparents. It is our comfort. Aches and pains of age and wear are always present. None of us know when but we all wish it will be like Tom and Sharon. Wake to find us passed in our sleep.

Enough of that.

We have reached a comfortable population level. It is exciting still to see how little the landscape has changed. Houses are not crowded together into those little plots. No family owns the land but that never matters. It is not uncommon to have a cluster of relatives build next to each other.

The thing is they will still welcome others into their community with open arm.

We have never had to expel anyone for polluting or violence. Never had anything missing other that a neglected toy or digging spoon that a child has lost. Those are considered lost treasures to be discovered by the next generation.

Many a child has made the trip to show us their fabulous treasure they found. We always tell them that if and when they get bored with their treasure, “Go out and hide it for the next one to find it.” I do think I have seen the same spoon quite a few times.

On this world almost all die of old age. Most of the illnesses can be cured with the knowledge of worlds but occasionally one is lost. Every loss is celebrated with a remembrance. That happens all over the world but in the communities. A wonderful practice we adopted from our goblin neighbors.

I someday will be the subject of one of those celebrations. Until then, I will live life fully until I die. You will excuse me. I have been invited to play with my grandchildren.