Once Upon a Time...

There was a young boy, on his way to the market. He carried a sack filled with home-baked sweets and rolls to sell. He felt very proud to be entrusted by his mother with such an important job. As he walked, he drifted into daydreams of all the money he would make for his family.

Henry enjoyed the warm summer day. Walking on the dirt road, the bees buzzing, the sun shining. He hadn't a care in the world.

Henry's mother worried about him, as he always had his head in the clouds. Henry wasn't very practical at all, didn't take life seriously and was always concocting some strange notion or other on how to make money for the family.

Henry felt bad about this, he tried to be serious and practical... several times he vowed never to think fanciful thoughts again. He wanted to be like his brothers - dour and responsible. But it was difficult. Sometimes he'd forget and for a while, he decided to pinch himself every time he found his thoughts drifting away. This didn't last long, as he quickly got tired of all the bruising.

Along the way, there was a dirty old man sitting by the side of the road under an enormous oak tree, dressed in rags. He was rocking back and forth, muttering to himself. Between his crossed legs sat a box about the size of a shoe.

When the boy, whose name was Henry, got closer, the old man started to sniff the air like a dog picking up a scent.

"Hey... Boy!" shouted the man. "What ya got in the sack? Sure smells good!"

Henry was startled out of his reverie and came to a halt. "Umm, well I've got sweet rolls to sell in the marketplace."

"Oh ho! I thought so... well it looks as if you've been walking for a while, why don't you sit down under this tree and take a few minutes of shade?" The old man invited.

"I really can't - I'm supposed to go straight to the market." Said Henry.

"Ah, but would you like to see some magic?" Cackled the old man.

"Magic? You mean like turning me into a newt or something?" Asked Henry skeptically. The old man certainly didn't look like any kind of magician.

"No, no, no, not at all... unless you want to be a newt. Do you?" The old man inquired.

"Um, I'm not sure my mother would approve." Answered Henry.

"Hmmm, sensible woman." Nodded the old man.

By this time, Henry was really starting to enjoy the coolness of the shade, and he thought to himself, "I'll just stay for a minute or two..."

"No, I'm talking about real magic." The old man cocked his head and looked at Henry sideways.

He patted the soft cool grass beside him and Henry sat down with the ease of a young man's limbs.

"What kind of magic?" Indulged Henry.

"Real magic that changes you from the inside, not the outside."

"I don't understand... besides, I'm sorry to say this - but you don't really look like a magician." Henry said as gently as he could.

"Ahhh, and how many magicians have you met?" Came the pointed reply.

"Not many..." Henry mumbled.

"Any?"

"Well, no." Admitted Henry.

"Then how do you know what a magician is supposed to look like?" Cackled the skinny old man, his eyes twinkling with delight.

"See here Henry, I'm not here by accident. I've been waiting for you. Waiting until you were ready. You are ready, aren't you?"

Henry was bewildered, "Ready? Ready for what? And how do you know my name? Are you really a magician!?!"

"Ha! Heee, hee... I am, but as to knowing your name - well it's embroidered on your shirt. I suspect it's so you don't confuse it with your brother's clothes." The old man's ears waggled with delight.

"Oh." Said Henry in a small voice. It was true, his brothers were forever taking his clothes until he had crudely written his name in thread on them.

To be continued...