276. What is your favorite fairy tale?
277. When you were younger, what always made you feel better when you were sick? Does it still make you feel better?
278. What is your favorite thing about Fall?
279. Describe your high school homecoming traditions. Were you in band? Did you play football?
280. Did you have an allowance when you were a child? If not, what other ways did you try to earn money? Did you mow lawns? What do you remember about it?
281. What is the oldest picture that you've ever found? Where did you find it? Who is it of?
282. When you were a kid, did you ever start a "business"? What was it?
As little girls, my sister and I would spend quite a lot of time with our grandparents – and the occasional night or two. My grandfather would either read Beatrix Potter’s FANTASTIC stories to us or stories from the Brothers Grimm. My favorite story was of Little One-Eye, Little Two-Eyes, and Little Three-Eyes.
It’s kind of a Cinderella tale. A woman had three daughters: Little One-Eye (who had one eye), Little Two-Eyes (who had two eyes), and Little Three-Eyes. Little One-Eye and Little Three-Eyes were mean to Little Two-Eyes because she was normal, like other people. They made Little Two-Eyes tend to all of the house hold chores, like taking care of the family goat. Eventually, she met her fairy godmother, who told her to speak to her goat when she wanted something. Her magic secret eventually made it back to her mother, who killed her magic goat. She buried his heart, and a magic tree grew from it. A knight came and saw the magic tree, and asked for fruit from it, but only Little Two-Eyes could retrieve the fruit. Little Two-Eyes rode away with the knight. Her sister’s eventually became beggars, but she was kind to them even when they had treated her poorly.
I was fascinated with the idea of there being a sister with one eyes and one with three (although I always liked Little Two-Eyes the most because she was very prettily drawn). As an adult, I have the same book that my grandfather read stories from. It’s seen better days, its binding is breaking and crumbling – but the pages are still there. When I hold it, I’m immediately taken back to those hot summer nights. In my mind’s eye, I can see my sister and me laying on line-dried sheets with the wind moving through the bedroom, bringing the sounds of outside with it. I can almost hear my grandfather’s soft voice read my favorite story…