The Water Nymph
There was a lily pond at the edge of a wildflower forest, and a water nymph who lived there named Leira. She lived in a small huddle of lily pads with all the other nymphs on the Eastern corner of this wild wood.
On this morning, she watched as the sun crept over the distant hills from her favorite place. Atop the rolling mounds that overlooked the pond, she watched as her family floated there still sleeping, oblivious to the glory of the morning sun. In this place up above and out of reach, she could be all alone, where her thoughts and choices were her own.
She thought of how content they all looked on their pads, being carried by the gentle rocking of the ripples cast by gracious winds. They always seemed to rely on those subtle breezes to push them through the day. It made it easier for them to row across the pond, and they were especially grateful on hot days for the assistance of a steady wind current.
For Leira, she used the wind to hear the whispers of tales from other ponds nearby. She heard stories of ponds so vast that you couldn’t see where they end. She heard them being called oceans, and she longed to see a sight as grand as that; A pond with no bounds, no borders.
The flowers were blooming atop the mound where she sat, receiving the sun’s first rays in unison with her. “Would it be like this in an ocean?” She wondered. “Will the sun still receive me?” There was no way to know for sure, and the desire to experience something more was too great to ignore.
This morning, she planned to leave her tiny pond and explore other ponds in search of this ocean. She was somewhat hesitant to leave this place that had nurtured her until this very day, with all its simple ways of living. Yesterday was her last time saying goodbye to the moss weavers as she left their shop with the basket she’d helped them make. It would be the last basket they crafted together.
She thought of how she would miss the smell of the morning dew that coated the berries towering over her sleeping pad. She would miss the rhythmic sounds of the grasshoppers howling at night. They always seemed to be in perfect harmony and she relied on their songs when drifting off to sleep. Although there were many things she would miss, the call of this ocean was louder than any resistance.
As the sun grew taller over the hills, Leira used the satchel she’d made out of a banana leaf to support her head as she sat back to catch her breath. In and out, she followed the hollows of her breath gathering strength for the journey ahead.
She had no real plans. Only the desire to see and experience a greater world would be her compass. She felt in her heart that she could trust the same winds that carried these stories to send her guidance along the way. It would tell her when to press on, when to be patient, and when to flutter around if she found a place to revel in and enjoy.
Before making the decision to leave the lily pond, everyone, and everything she knows, she consulted the pond’s seer. In exchange for three jars of snail mucus, he told her the outcome of taking this risk. The mucus was easy to provide since she’d been collecting it from a secret place in the forest she found with the mushroom forager’s daughter.
The seer told her of a great fortune. “This is not a fortune of material gain” he insisted. He spoke of how she would grow and expand beyond her wildest imagination. He foretold that it would be the most challenging thing she’s ever done and in exchange, she would have the world to show for it but also to care for. He warned her only to go if she could accept that responsibility.
And so she agreed, leaving to pack her satchel immediately after receiving the seer's water blessing. The journey ahead was unclear, but Leira was determined to go forward on nothing but the fuel of her heart’s desires. She was sure, even though she didn’t know where the sureness came from, that the earth, the wind, and the sky would take good care of their child.
She sat up to gaze one last time at the subtle busyness, the morning movements of the pond. The merchants were rowing down to form a line along the banks, preparing to sell their goods for the day. The old mothers were lighting their coals, burning resins, and blowing fresh waves of smoke into the air. Leria closed her eyes to keep this memory in her mind, to come back to it when she wanted to remember a fond moment about the world that has carried her since she was no bigger than an apple seed.
On this day, she stood up and faced the edge of the mound with bravery, taking a deep inhale from the current of sweet air wafting from the pond below. She turned around and took a step forward, away from pings of soft ripples behind her, then another step. Then, she took another and kept walking until the laps of the pond became the chatter of the trees.
The trees were a familiar place, but she didn’t know what to expect when finding herself in a different pond with different nymphs who follow different customs. The more steps she took the more she realized the danger of her decision, but she decided to focus on the wealth of possibilities instead. She thought of how important it was to prepare herself to face the challenges that would give her the world in exchange.
She would go on until she found water. A new place of nourishment, there was sure to be the gift of water waiting just around the bend. As a water nymph, she would always be able to lead herself to her source. And so she walked on, ever alert, a new explorer in a strange new world.
