JAMIE SUE AUSTIN

Is a parable for children.  It must be an unpopular one because I can’t find it online, so I’m going to tell it to you.

Gather close.

Sit next to me.  Mamma Sue’s gonna tell you a story.

It was winter.  The evergreens poked out from under snow coats. The oak branches drooped with swags of ice shards.  The white on the ground was frozen on top, crunchy and bitter cold.  It was much like winter now, but different, because this was long ago.  Back then, before animals picked up peopleskins to wear instead of fur, things were different in a different way.  The way that a new shirt never fits the same after it’s gotten dirty and been through the wash.

On this day a possum was walking home to join his family for supper.  He still had his furskin, so he was warm and happy.  His children would greet him with cheers because his pouch was full of hard winter berries and perfect tiny pine cones.  His wife would kiss him at door and after dinner he’d sit by the fire with his pipe and think about the world.

From the road side the possum heard a tiny voice.  ”Help me. Help me. I’m going to die.”

The possum saw a snake, half frozen in the snow.  Snakes aren’t much for snow.  They don’t build nice fires or wear furskins.  They stay low to the ground, always looking up at folk, figuring-on and plott’n about.   The possum stopped.  ”I’m too cold.  I’ll die.  Please put me in your pouch so I can warm up.  Please help me.” Cried the snake.

“My pouch is full with gifts for my children.  You won’t fit.”  Said the possum.

“I’ll curl up very small.  You’ll hardly know I’m there.” Plead the snake.

“If I put you in my pouch you’ll bite me and I’ll die.” Said the possum.

“I’d never bite you.  I could never bite someone who was kind to me.  You would save my life. I would owe you a great debt.  I’ll be no trouble.” Said the snake.

The possum was a kind thing.  A softhearted creature.  A gentle spirit.  So it lifted the snake from the snow and it put it in it’s pouch.  The snake nestled itself between the little red berries and the tiny perfect pine cones.

The pouch was warm and soft.  The snake was content.  It was safe.  It grew warmer.  It felt alive again.  It started to wriggle and move.  It was ready to leave an go about on its way, so it bit the possum.

“Why? Why?” Said the possum.

“You knew I was a snake.  It’s in my nature.”