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Gigi and Someone Named Sam
By: Frances A. Ong

Some boy named Sam was puttering-muttering in his garden when he thought up a friend.

 

He gave her dewdrop eyes and a face of soft sweet fruit. Her arms would be like vines when she gave you a hug and her legs would be quick and sturdy like fast-growing roots.

She was almost done but that someone named Sam had to think up a heart. He picked up a rock but it was too heavy, too hard. He tried to put in a bird but it needed more room to fly. That someone named Sam, he was stumped. He couldn’t make a little girl if he couldn’t find a heart. Then his eye spied a tiny red flower growing in the corner of his plot.

It was the kind of flower that only bloomed in the rainy season. The color was deep and bright—the kind that made any room happy-looking. It grew on a short tender stalk with tenacious roots like the fingers of a baby.

"I like it," he muttered, puttering about. So he patted some rich moist soil into the cavern of her chest and planted the tiny red bloom. When the roots grasped the earth she opened her eyes, bright and liquid with the dew. Her peach-fruit face broke into a smile and her spindly arms reached out to hug the first person she saw – someone named Sam. She began to trip a bit and then began to skip. The rainy season was in full swing and someone called Sam took her by a tiny hand. They danced a jig and sloshed in the mud. Slosh slosh slosh. Squish squish squish! "I think I’ll call you Gigi – would you like that?"

And Gigi nodded her head.

He would often ask, " Are you my little girl with dewdrop eyes?"

And she would reply, "Yupyup! I’ll always be your little girl. I will hug you and hold you and whirl." She skipped off while he sat in his garden to putter and mutter.

One day, the rain stopped.

Gigi, with the red flower heart began to feel tired. Her dewdrop eyes were drooping and her cute fruity face was pruning up. The bright red bloom was curling into itself. Some little boy named Sam was worried.

They tried everything.

They used his mother's watering pot but it was too small.

They tried to keep her in the shower stall but the water bill was cut.

They made her swim in the well but she got bored.

 

It was hard to keep a little girl with a seasonal flower in place of a heart. She would always be looking for rain. So someone sad named Sam gave her a little raincoat and a box of fresh soil and sent her on her way. Gigi trudged off toward rain.

It was hard to live on short showers and quick swims but it simply had to do. Then one day, she felt a little drizzle. She tripped a bit and when it turned into a shower the trip became a skip. The rain was in full swing again. She took of her little coat when the little red flower felt the rain, the tiny roots tightened their grip and the tender stalk straightened up. Her dewy eyes were so bright she could have been crying. Her face grew plump with a smile.

Gigi followed the rain. She hitched a hike and plodded on, across a rice field and over the China Sea. She followed it over loose sand and tightly packed earth, her nimble root legs scrambling and grasping up the dirt tracks. She followed it through jungles and scrambled after it up mountains. She skipped and hopped and sloshed and squished through damp earth and watery mud. She was unusually happy.

From time to time though, she thought of someone whose name was Sam who knew how to make dewdrop eyes and sweet faces from fruit.

"I wonder what happened to my someone named Sam," she puttered and muttered while she sloshed through the rain. "Is he taller or fatter or older? Is he happier or sadder or grumpier?" But she kept following the rain.

One day, the rain came through a town. She followed it up alleyways and side streets to a little house. "I know this house," Gigi thought. There was a little garden by the side of the house and an old man was puttering and muttering in the middle of it.

Gigi walked up to him and said, "Excuse me sir, do you know someone named Sam?" And he turned around to look at her and it seemed like his eyes, too, were made of dew. And while the rain lasted, Gigi and some old man named Sam sloshed and squished and danced in the mud.

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In This Issue:
STREAM ON A SIDEWALK
POEM

RIPPLE, RIPPLE
POEM

SPLISH, SPLASH
POEM

MY SEASONAL FRIEND
POEM

GIGI AND SOMEONE NAMED SAM
SHORT STORY

THE GOLDEN RAIN
SHORT STORY

PEPPERMINT PLUTONIA AND THE PERFECT TOAST STORY
SHORT STORY

WHY IS WATER IMPORTANT?
ARTICLE

WHERE DOES THE RAIN GO?
ARTICLE

THE LA MESA WATERSHED AND RESERVOIR
ARTICLE

SAVING THE LA MESA DAM
-- Bantay Kalikasan

ARTICLE

RAINY DAY RECIPE
ACTIVITY

Book Reviews


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