On the appointed day they arrived with children and grandchildren, swelling the cottage and spilling out among the trees and grapevines of the garden. After much hugging and laughing and crying, they sat at rough tables and fell to the meal.
The eating and drinking went on into the early evening. When everyone had finished the meal, the old woman stood and toasted her family. All shouted their approval and drained their goblets, then fell silent as she remained standing.
"Too many years have passed since we were last together, and there are many more of us than the last time we met," she said. "You are of the world and I know only my cottage and garden and this small village. Help me know the world. Tell me, what is the most important thing you have learned since you left this mother's breast?"
They had not expected such a somber question at this gay gathering, and several turned to ask their neighbor if this might be a sign of age dimming those bright eyes. Finally the eldest, a son who was a successful merchant, stood and faced his mother.
"I have learned enough to buy and sell goods, to sendmy ships to the corners of theEarth in search of silks and spices, but anyone can do that. The most important thing I have learned is that our Earth is the center of the universe, that all the heavenly bodies keep their faces to Earth as they journey across the skies."
He sat with a satisfied sigh, but his revelation was greeted with snickers that ~quickly spread and grew into raucous laughter. Heads shook in pity at his ignorance, sympathetic glances were cast at his wife and family. He tried to protest, but finally gave up and stormed off, his anger only intensified when his children and his children's children declined to leave with him, pleading that they wanted to visit with beloved aunts and uncles and cousins.
When the last tear was wiped away, the mother asked her next oldest what she had learned. This daughter had married a wealthy landowner, a man whose influence with the court made his advice much sought after. The daughter looked at her husband and their handsome children, then stood. "I do not know much of the Heavens, but our country is the center of our universe. It gives birth to us,nurtures us, protects us, and enfolds us when we die."
Her husband smiled at these heartfelt words, and many at her table spoke their assent. But murmurs of disagreement rose from beneath the olive and plane trees, then some at the tables shook their heads. A cousin finally jumped up and cried "No! My father left this country generations ago, and my mother never lived here. It's not the center of my universe, it's not the center of anything!"
And now the joy fled the gathering, for the family was large and had come from many lands. Men shouted angrily, women tried to still the quarrels, children cried and hid beneath the tables. There was some fighting among distant cousins who had drunk too much wine, but this was quelled. The second-oldest and her husband left in sorrow. Their children, some of whom now lived in different lands, stayed behind but promised to visit before they returned home.
The tumult slowly stilled, and soon someone laughed. It was late now. The stars glittered and the wind spread shivers around the garden. Someone started a fire in a stone ring, others pushed the tables into circles around it. The mother, at a table next to the fire, stood and faced her third child. "And what about you? What have you learned?"
The third-oldest had not married yet, although she was past the age when most women took a mate. She lived in a great city in a far land, and had not seen her family for many years. She did not want to shame them or cause another uproar. She stood, looking at the faces she could see in the firelight, and searched for words that would not sound like a lecture or a sermon.
"This Earth is not the center of the universe, neither is this country nor any other country," she said. "I am the center of the universe, at least of my universe. Each of you should be the center of your own universe. If we serve ourselves and ask no others to serve us, then everyone is served best."
There was no reaction at first. Then someone sitting among the grapevines stood. "That is right! I have always been afraid to say it, but it is true!" Another leaped into the branches of an olive tree, the better to be seen in the dim firelight, and shouted "Finally! Could anything be more obvious? I have always known this, but the priests and old ones would have shamed anyone who said it. Perhaps now we can all be free!" He laughed in his exultation, shaking the branches so violently that the hard, green olives peppered those beneath the tree and a nearby tables.
And suddenly everyone seemed to want to announce their agreement. Two, three, four, or more would stand, each shouting to be heard above the others. Sometimes three or four sitting together would turn to each other with shining eyes to affirm their belief, then turn away to find someone else who would listen to them.
The tumult lasted a very long time. The moon rose, climbed, and started falling, and still the testimonials went on. No one except her mother noticed when the third-oldest left. No one except her mother, in fact, ever noticed that she was gone.
It was now quite late. A few had left, some of the olders ones sitting at the tables closest to the fire. Their places were quickly filled, for it was cold in the corners of the garden where the fire didn't reach. Finally there was a lull, and the mother turned to her youngest, who had only been married a few years. He owned a small shop and studied with the elders at the temple. "What have you learned?" she asked. "Have you anything for us?"
For hours he had tried to think of something. The reaction to the other answers only spurred his desire to say something soothing or wise, but nothing he thought of seemed right. The family was silent and tense, waiting to hear what he would say. Hoping his uncertainty did not show, he stood and faced his mother.
"I have not lived as long as my brother and sisters," he began. "I have neither their experience nor their wisdom. They discovered answers, but all I seem to find is more questions. Perhaps there are no great answers, just many small ones."
There was no reaction to his answer. Some may not even have heard it, for he spoke quietly and directly to his mother. But the tension seemed to pass, and people started saying small things to each other. His mother neither smiled nor frowned, but after a while took her goblet and stood. Again, the group fell silent.
"The sun will soon rise and we must be off to bed. We celebrated well, and we learned much." She looked around at her family, from the tables out to those sitting on the ground at the edge of the firelight. "Let us meet again in five years. It is not good to stray apart forever. There will be more of us, but we will make room."
Now she turned to her youngest and smiled. "And if I am in the ground when we meet, I bid you come regardless, bring a flower to my stone, and let my youngest head the table. If he won't give us answers, perhaps we can learn from his questions."
And with that she led them back into the cottage, where they fell into sleep one next to the other as the sun rose over the garden.
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