Dreamy
The Mountain in the Backyard
Behind the pond stood a grassy hill. Daisy looked at it every morning. To her, it was not just a hill. It was a mountain. The mountain rose high above the pond. Its little path curled up and up. Clouds seemed to rest near its top. Daisy stayed at the bottom and watched the breeze move through the grass. “Perhaps I could climb it,” she said. Then she shook her head. “Perhaps I could not.” Daisy was a small duckling, but the mountain felt huge. She imagined slippery stones, loud winds, and a long way down. Her tummy gave a tiny wiggle. One morning, Daisy heard a rustle in the grass. Pip came down the path. He lived in a snug nest partway up the mountain. He stopped beside Daisy and tilted his head. “Are you looking at the mountain?” he asked. “Yes,” said Daisy. “It is too big for me.”
Pip sat beside her. “It is big. But we do not have to go all the way at once. We can take one little step, then another.” Daisy looked at the path. “What if I am scared?” “Then we can be scared together,” said Pip. “Being brave does not mean feeling no fear. It can mean taking a small step while fear is still there.” Daisy liked that idea. She took one step onto the path. Then she took another. The pond grew smaller behind her. Soon they reached the place where Pip lived. His nest rested under a wide root. He offered Daisy a short rest. Daisy sat near the root and listened to the leaves whisper. “I climbed this far,” she said. “You did,” said Pip. “Your feet know the way now.” Daisy stood again. The path became steeper. It bent around a stone and crossed a patch of soft earth. Daisy slipped once. She sat down quickly. “I cannot do it,” she whispered. Pip did not pull her. He simply stayed close. “You can pause,” he said. “Pausing is not quitting.”
Daisy took a slow breath. She placed one foot firmly on the earth. Then the other. Up they went, step by step. At last, the path opened onto the top. The wind danced around them. Far below, the pond looked like a little spoon of water. The trees looked like tiny brushes. Daisy stood very still. Beside a warm flat stone sat Bo, a wise old yak. He was resting his chin on his front legs and watching the wide sky. “Welcome,” said Bo. “What brought you to the top?” Daisy looked back at the path. “I was afraid. Pip helped me climb.” Bo nodded slowly. “That is a brave thing. A brave heart may still beat fast. Brave feet may still feel wobbly. Bravery is not a door that makes fear vanish. It is a small lamp you carry while you walk.” Daisy thought about the little lamp inside his words. She had carried her fear all the way up. It had not stopped her.
“Was the mountain really this big?” she asked. Bo smiled. “It was big from the pond. It became smaller with every step.” Pip curled his tail beside him. “And now we know the path.” The three friends watched the clouds drift past. Daisy felt the wind tickle her feathers. She was still a little nervous when she looked down, but she was not stuck. As the sun began to set, they walked to a quiet place at the top. The sky softened, and the first star appeared. Daisy stood between Pip and Bo. She stretched her wings and took one more step toward the wide view. “I am scared,” she said. “I know,” said Pip. “And I am brave,” said Daisy. Bo gave a pleased little hum. “Both can be true.” Daisy smiled. The mountain had not changed. The path had not changed. But Daisy had changed a little. Tomorrow, she might climb again. Or she might rest by the pond. Either way, she would remember: one small step can open a very big world.
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