Giants in the Forest
By Betty Adams
Of course there were giants. The hazel eyed girl blinked at her friend in befuddlement. Of course there were giants. Why would her friend even ask that? They sat, side by side, on the bench-steps leading down to the circular stage. The concrete was tiled in smooth river stone and the atrium was mostly open to the California air. On the stage the plump, middle aged librarian was gathering up her things as she chatted with the mothers.
“I said do you really think there are giants?” her friend pressed again.
The girl nodded and glanced sorrowfully at the retreating form of the librarian. “The story was just getting good.” She sighed mournfully as she pushed her hair out of her face. No matter how many times a day she brushed her dark brown mop it was always sticking every which way by noontime. “Why did she have to stop?”
“You say that every time!” Her friend burst out in exasperation. “Why do you think giants are real? Have you ever seen one?”
“Yes. Why don’t they read more than one chapter at a time?” the girl pouted. “How will we ever find out if she was safe in the cucumber?”
“What?” Her friend demanded. “Where? How?”
“In the cucumber where she hid.” The girl explained. “I hope we don’t miss tomorrow’s story time.”
“Not the book!” exclaimed her friend. “Where did you see the giant?”
The girl heaved a longsuffering sigh and gave her friend, the look. She stood and picked up her bright pink purse and held out her hand. Her friend took it and consented to be led out the door and down the broad steps. They went around the corner and the girl released her hand to point up. Her friend squinted into the redwoods and frowned.
“Where are the giants?” she asked hesitantly.
“Here,” the girl darted over to the largest redwood and scaled the rough bark up about six feet. She looked back over her shoulder at her friend and grinned. “This is my favorite giant, but there are lots in the woods.”
“I mean people giants!” Her friend protested. “Not tree giants!”
“If there are tree giants then there are people giants,” the girl shrugged and scampered back down the tree.
“Oh,” her friend paused to consider this bit of logic. “That makes sense.” Her eyes lit up. “Daddy says that strange folks live up in the redwoods. Do you think there are any people giants up there?”
“Why wouldn’t there be?” the girl asked.
“Wanna go find them?”
The girl grinned and held out her hand. Their moms would be talking to the librarian for lots of minutes. Plenty of time to find their own big friendly giant.