Mina and the Star Key, Part 7: The Wind That Forgot to Blow

Mina and the Star Key, Part 7: The Wind That Forgot to Blow

The Story Begins

That evening, Mina sat by the window and looked out at the garden. The leaves on the bush did not move at all. The air was still as a blanket.

Suddenly, something in the pocket of her mustard-yellow cardigan gave a soft little tremble.

“The key?” she whispered.

She pulled out the little silver star key. A tiny blue spark glittered at its tip. Piko, a tiny golden star-butterfly, flew out from behind the curtain and landed on her shoulder.

“The little door is waiting,” he squeaked.

Behind the chest of drawers by the door, a small round door appeared. It was the colour of soft green grass. Mina put the key into it, turned it, and it clicked softly.

Behind the little door was a meadow.

The little girl stepped over the threshold in her red boots. The grass beneath her feet was soft and smelled of honey. Long ribbons hung between the blades. Yellow, blue, and green. But they barely moved at all.

“Where is the wind?” Mina asked.

Piko fluttered his transparent wings. “There. It’s going round and round.”

In the middle of the meadow, the grass spun in little circles. First one way, then the other. It was the wind, but it seemed not to know where it belonged. It stirred one leaf a little, then another, and then returned to its circle.

Mina stepped closer. “Wind, come here! The ribbons are waiting for you!”

Nothing happened. Only one blue ribbon trembled, then was still again.

So she tried calling once more.

“Wind! Please blow!”

The little swirl lifted for a moment, but then it spun even faster. The grass around it grew taut. The ribbons hung straight down.

Mina put her hands on her hips. “I don’t think it can hear me.”

“Maybe it hears too much,” Piko said softly.

The little girl frowned, but only for a moment. Then she noticed that whenever Piko spoke quietly, the wind stopped spinning. Only for one short breath. As if it were listening.

Mina knelt in the grass. “What should we say to it?”

Piko settled on a yellow ribbon. His warm golden glow shimmered softly on it.

“First, quiet,” he squeaked.

So they were both quiet for a while.

The meadow was not empty. Tiny seeds rustled in the soft grass. Somewhere beneath a leaf, a little beetle chirped. And among all those sounds came a faint fff, fff. The wind was trying to find its way.

Mina ran her fingers along the long yellow ribbon. It was smooth and soft. When she lifted it, the little swirl leaned towards it. It paused even longer by the blue ribbon. The green one fluttered right by its nose, if a wind could have a nose.

“It likes the ribbons,” Mina said.

Piko nodded. “They show. They don’t pull.”

Mina liked that. She did not want to catch the wind or order it about. Perhaps it had only forgotten which way to go.

First, she laid the yellow ribbon on the grass. Behind it, she placed the blue one. Then she added the green one. They made a short path, but the wind only swayed at its beginning and turned back into its circle.

“Hmm,” Mina breathed. “This path is too straight.”

She looked at the wind. It was not pushing forwards. It liked to spin, look around, and search.

So she moved the ribbons carefully. She laid the yellow one in a gentle curve. The blue one continued a little farther on, and the green one disappeared among flowers near a small hill. The path no longer looked like an arrow. It looked like an invitation.

When Things Start to Change

“You can go this way,” Mina said very softly.

Just then, the wind touched the yellow ribbon.

The ribbon lifted.

Then the blue one moved.

The wind spun one last little time, as if saying goodbye to its circle. At last, it followed the green ribbon. At first, slowly. Fff. Then a little more lightly. Ffff.

The grass rippled in long, soft waves. The leaves happily turned their undersides up. Tiny seeds lifted from the blades and floated through the air like little parachutes.

Piko laughed. “Now it knows!”

“Yes,” Mina smiled. “It remembered.”

The wind did not rush. It simply travelled across the meadow, brushing the ribbons and gently ruffling the flowers. Yellow, blue, and green rippled behind it. Each one showed it a little more of the way.

Before long, the meadow was moving as it should. The grass whispered, the leaves danced, and the seeds found new soft places to settle.

Mina stood up and brushed off her knees. The wind left a light kiss on her cheek.

“Goodbye, wind,” she said.

“Fff,” answered the wind, floating over the hill.

By the little door, Piko nestled against Mina’s neck. “A good path.”

The little girl looked at her sleeve. A tiny green ribbon had caught on it. It was as thin as a blade of grass, and its end glittered quietly.

“Did this come with me?” she asked.

Piko winked. “Maybe it remembers you.”

Mina did not pull it off. She left it where it was.

Then she stepped back through the little door into her room. The small green door closed softly behind her. The silver star key slipped into her pocket all by itself.

Mama stood in the doorway, smiling. “Are you ready for bed now?”

“Yes,” Mina said, stroking the green ribbon on her sleeve.

In bed, she pulled the blanket right up to her chin. Outside, one leaf on the bush moved. Then another.

And the tiny ribbon on her sleeve glittered in the moonlight, as if it were quietly waving to the next evening.