"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." - e. e. cummings

SIMPLY PASSING TIME

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Chelsea sat up in bed with a start, momentarily forgetting where she was, a darkness surrounding her. A sharp rattling had woken her, and she clutched the lightweight quilt to her chest as the spring breeze swirled around in...where was she again? As her vision adjusted to the dark, she flopped back down onto her pillow, smiling. Oh, right, this was her place. Her closet of a house, on her barren ranch, but it was hers. Something to call her own, that no one, nothing, was going to take away from her.

"Not that anyone in their right mind would want to," she finished her thought aloud as she caught sight of a small cluster of cobwebs that had formed under the leg of her nightstand, before burrowing further down into bed, with the hope that the spiders those webs belonged to had long since departed.

The clacking sound that had woken her up started again. She pinpointed it as the window shutter. Try as she might to block it out, with the aid of a pillow over her head, it was useless, especially coupled with the stiff puffs of wind that kept rippling over her sheets and prevented her from falling back asleep. Finally she threw off the covers, and with a groan, hopped out of bed to switch on the lights. Barefoot, she crossed over to the window, only to find the latchhook that held the shutter in place was broken.

She forced it shut with both of her hands, then ever-so-slowly drew her hands away. It stuck! Just as a victorious smile spread across her face, a giant gust of wind propelled the shutter against the wall so hard that it made an earsplitting noise not unlike that of a whipcrack.

"No!" she cried out to no one, sitting down cross-legged right then and there on the boarded floor, hands balled up in fists in her bed-messed hair.

The shutter continued flapping away, and Chelsea sat stock still for the next few minutes, her mind wavering between the notion that this was exciting - finally being out on her own and having a run-down shack that she could fix up and take care of and be proud of - and the thought that if she couldn't even keep her windows shut, how was she going to take care of a ranch, and more importantly, herself?

She felt something warm creeping across her toes. Just in case those spiders had decided to come out of their hiding and greet her, she bit her lip so as not to scream and wake up the entire Islands.

But what Chelsea saw was just the opposite. A thin faded beam of light. It was morning already? She looked up from her foot to the window, and indeed it was. The soft pinky-peach of a new day braided up through the dissolving night, a reminder that today was different than yesterday, and all things yesterday, including faulty window shutters, should be put aside in place of a fresh new day.

She stood and moved to her suitcase to dig through her clothes, and haphazardly stuffed the articles she didn't want to wear that day into the dresser. To her pleasant surprise, the dresser seemed to be quite sturdy, despite its telltale signs of aging that would suggest otherwise.

She slipped on an orange linen shirt over her yellow tee as she exited her house, searching for Taro. The old man shouldn't have been hard to spot on her desolate property. Still, she looked back and forth and back and forth across the horizon: the windmill in the west, to the center of the ranch where a bridge crossed to Verdure Island, over to the tool shed, and back again.

With a small sigh, Chelsea sat down on the hard patch of dry soil, a makeshift welcome mat befitting for her shack. She allowed her eyes to slip shut, laying her head back against the door as the rising sun's rays spun a soft web up along her bare legs.

It couldn't have been more than two minutes that she'd been relaxing, on the verge of drifting back off to sleep, when a wooden cane came crashing down split between her ankles. She scrambled to her feet with a scream.

"Wake up! The ranch won't harvest itself!" He stabbed his cane into the dirt a couple more times to emphasize his point.

Chelsea nearly bolted back inside the house, but Taro's expression wasn't stern, full of disdain, as she had expected from the tone of his voice. No, his beady eyes glinted with mischief, his bristly mustache hiding a warm smile. He stood proudly in front of the bewildered Chelsea, permitting her a few seconds to regain her composure.

She'd met Taro, his daughter Felicia, and her children when she'd arrived on the island yesterday. Elliot was her age, and Natalie a year or so younger, so at least she wouldn't be completely friendless. Or that was what she hoped, at least. A small part of her was nervous that she wouldn't quite click with either of them.

Taro headed around the back of the house, and Chelsea followed. "Do you have any experience in farming?"

"Well, uh...not officially, no." Taro raised an eyebrow, unsure what to make of such an open answer. Chelsea cleared her throat and continued, with more conviction. "I mean! Nothin' I've ever been paid for, that is. But I've been around this," - she waved out towards the empty acres behind her - "my entire life."

She explained to Taro how she'd spent many summers as a young girl helping her aunt tend to her garden, and her family's elderly neighbors who had since passed on always let her run around and play with the animals on their farm, as long as she assisted them with menial chores in return. They walked slowly, casually, around the perimeter of her ranch, as she talked and plucked the weeds easily from the ground, preparing for her first attempt at crop-growing. He nodded in acknowlegement as she, unprompted, launched into why she wanted this too, sparing few details.

How she'd been working odd jobs the past three (almost four) since graduating high school, trying to save up to get her own place, but hadn't found career paths she particularly liked. She knew that most people didn't like what they do for a living, necessarily, but they didn't feel so empty from it, either.

Chelsea had longed to find something. Only a week ago, she'd been paging through a newspaper on her lunch break, something she rarely did, when she came across a "Wanted" ad. She hardly ever read the paper, save for the funnies (it was so redundant; petty crime, births, random story about someone thinking they saw the Harvest Goddess in their piece of breakfast toast and subsequently trying to profit from it), that she took it as a sign when she opened the paper right to the ad, and decided to give them a ring.

And that's when she spoke to a sweet-voiced woman (who sounded almost a little too excited that anyone was calling) about the opportunity to settle onto the fledgling ranch and make her mark as a useful member of society. Chelsea found out when she arrived that she had been the only one who called about the ranch.

So she got the job by default. That didn't exactly instill much confidence in her, at least in regards to what the other islanders thought of her, but she was already determined to take care of herself, to live on her own, make her own life. The ranch was simply a means of doing that. Besides, it was something she wanted to do, something she felt she would enjoy, at least. So it wasn't scary in an unfamiliar sense, only the anxiety over not knowing what the future would bring, what sorts of broken window shutters would be flung in her path.

Taro presented Chelsea with her own tools of the trade: a watering can and hoe, and a complementary bag of turnip seeds. As corny as it sounded, it made her feel special. She politely listened to him as he explained about tilling and planting seeds. She already knew the gist of what he was telling her, but understood how he'd want to make double-sure that she had her head screwed on right when it came to this.

The thought dawned on her that she, and only she, would be responsible the bulk of the Islands' income. Oh dear. She gripped the hoe in one hand tightly, not sure if she was sweating now because of the slight dread that was washing over her, or because the sun was rapidly making its ascent, and the sunshine absorbing into her clothes, her hair.

Then it was time to get to work.

The elderly man kept a watchful eye on his pupil, but she hardly noticed him, channeling all her fears and hopes into each swing of the hoe. Each mighty thunk! was just another "what are you doing, Chelsea?" being destroyed.

After planting the seeds she received, Taro had to all but tear the hoe out of Chelsea's hands to get her to rest. Giving her some wild herbs to munch on, he explained how they could be found all around the Islands, and she would do well to stock up on them for snacks as she went about her daily routine.

Chelsea ate the herb in two huge bites, pretending it was a fat ice cream sandwich, then stricken by the stomach-turning thought that she'd be chowing down on grassy ice cream sandwiches morning, noon and night. But she couldn't renege on the monologue she'd given Taro, a promise that she was here for the long haul. Where would she go, anyway? She couldn't go back to Streusel County, not to where every building, every person, every something reminded her of times she'd rather forget. She needed new memories, badly.

"Good job!" Taro announced as he surveyed the land. He smiled fondly at the blossoming ranch, and Chelsea swore she could see ripe, juicy vegetables dancing in his beady eyes, some by themselves, others partnered with dollar signs. She didn't say anything, as exhaustion began to catch up with her. She just overlapped her hands over the hoe handle, resting her cheek on them.

Taro maintained his knack for startling her and patted her firmly on the shoulder. "ATTAGIRL!"

The hoe tippled out from her hold, and she scowled at him as she picked it back up.

"Now!" He continued, as if scaring young adults out of their boots was a normal activity for him. "I have good news! The ol' hip's actin' up-"

Oh no. At first Chelsea had pegged Taro for a fount of farming knowledge, but maybe he was just a crazy old man, and if she didn't stop him, he'd start talking about kids these days! and reminiscing about walking to school barefoot, uphill both ways, through a blizzard.

"-which can only mean it's going to rain tomorrow!" He waved the cane wildly. Was he going to do a rain dance? She wouldn't put it past him. "So! Your crops should receive plenty of water! It'd do you well to explore the Islands, meet everybody!"

She gulped. Everybody? Just how many people were on the Islands?

"Bah!" Taro must have noticed her concerned expression. "What the heck! Why not meet 'em now! I arranged for some of 'em to stop by this afternoon, the ones who'll help ya take care of your farm!" He squinted up in the direction of the sun. "Looks like it's almost 4:30, they should be here any minute!"

Chelsea occupied herself by watching the windmill as Taro babbled on something about talking to her turnips to make them grow faster. Ten minutes later, she saw three people crossing the Verdure Island bridge together.

Taro corralled them by Chelsea's front door, and they took turns introducing themselves.

There was Mirabelle, a portly middle-aged woman with a cheerful smile who ran the livestock store. There were already animals at her shop, and even though Chelsea didn't have a place to house them yet, she was ecstatic about visiting them, getting to know them. Mirabelle seemed more than pleased with Chelsea's enthusiasm, and told her the door was open any hour of the day for whatever needs befell her, farming or otherwise.

Chen was a merchant, an easy-going, honest-looking man who owned the general store neighboring Mirabelle's. He informed her that all the seeds she'd need would be available at his shop, and in an effort to be both a tiptop salesman and person, he was willing to special order anything extra that she might need, for her house or just daily life.

And finally, Gannon. He was huge, hulking, and spoke gruffly, but it was plain to see that he took immense pride in his job as a carpenter, boasting that anything Chelsea wanted done on her house, or ranch, he would finish by daybreak the following day. Chelsea could only believe that someone so passionate about their line of work was certainly a good person all-around, and mentally noted to talk to him someday soon, figuring it might help her get through what could be a rough first week or so.

The trio finally bade Chelsea farewell, and Taro, who had stood silent the whole time, piped up again.

"Why don't you call it a day, young miss! Rest up, you got a lot ahead of ya tomorrow!"

She replied with a sweet smile and thanked him for his "interesting", if effective, way of teaching her. With her hoe in one hand, reached for the door with the other.

"Chelsea!"

Pressing up on her toes, Chelsea strained her neck out to look behind Taro, to her field, thinking perhaps she'd forgotten to water something. Why else would he have called for her, if not because she'd messed up somewhere? She snapped down to pick up her waterin can before looking back at Taro.

"Why don'tcha come over for breakfast tomorrow?"

"O-Oh!" She exclaimed. "Really?"

"Sure thing, kid! There's always room for another butt at our table! Now I gotta get goin', but I better see ya tomorrow, 7 o'clock sharp!"

Chelsea very nearly hugged him, but didn't want to disturb his allegedly aching hip. She just thanked him again, and waited until he strode off into the dimming day, over the bridge back to Verdure Island.

Entering her house, Chelsea spread her arms out as if they were wings, twirling around on her way to bed, and bouncing onto it with a happy squeal. Of all the ways she pictured her first day going, it couldn't have been better than this. She, in all her pessimism and nsecurities, had conquered Day One. It had always been her Achilles Heel: finding the confidence to start something new, and keeping at it. Sure, it wouldn't get any easier, from here on out, but from her experience today, she felt no matter what, it wouldn't get worse and that she would persevere.

She changed into her pajamas and spent some time reading, some time unpacking and situating everything, some time day dreaming. And every now and then she would just walk over to the window and take a good look at her baby turnips, feeling validated each time. This whole adventure was becoming more and more real.

The wind was rustling outside, threatening of a Spring storm. Perhaps Taro wasn't quite as crazy as she thought. The rain droplets started dotting the window sill, and she slid out of bed to close the windows.

That damn shutter! She couldn't just ignore it, not with the house in the state it was in. She didn't need a condemned property brought about by her own carelessness.

Her hoe was propped up against the wall right next to the windows, and perfectly even in height with them. Hm.

She simply moved it a few feet to the right, tilting it slightly so the blade nestled comfortably in the shutter's slat.

"Stay," she coaxed, holding her hands out as if trying to prevent it from attacking her. "Stay..."

It listened! For now. She climbed back into bed, facing the window, watching it with bated breath.

The wind picked up outside, whistling through the rain as it pelted the house. This was it, the moment of truth.

The shutter creaked, teasingly, but remained shut. Chelsea waited two wind-bursts more, and heard absolutely nothing from the shutter. It had conceded. A smug smile formed across her lips as she cuddled her stuffed bear close, snuggling deeper under the covers and drifting off in a matter of moments.

Chelsea 1, shutter 0.