Chapter 4 ~ Unexpected Late Night Mysteries

My eldest daughter is crying her eyes out. She sat in front of the fireplace, quietly rubbing the tears from her cheeks, and sobbed, “Why do I have to be like this? I hate being like this.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I wrapped my arms around her, held her tight, and told her how deeply I loved her. As I squeezed her tight, I searched my imagination: I wanted her to understand how special she was. “The ink pad, Ava—get me the ink pad and a piece of paper,” I said. She looked at me with a puzzled frown and asked why. “Just go to the office and bring back the ink pad and a sheet of paper, and you will see,” I said with excitement.

When she returned and sat back down, her sisters were already circling, drawn in by Dad’s weird request. They gathered close, suspicious and curious, as if some magic trick was about to be performed.

I pressed my thumb into the ink and carefully placed it on the blank page. “Now you,” I said. One by one, each of my girls followed suit—wide-eyed and smiling, thrilled by this unexpected moment of late-night mystery.

When the final print was pressed, I asked them to look closely at the patterns left behind. For a moment, there was silence. Then, as if something clicked, they burst out laughing.

“Hey, mine’s different from yours!”

“So is mine!” said another.

And that was the moment I turned to Ava and said, “You are the only person on this planet, in this universe, in all of time—past, present, and future—who has ever existed with that remarkable design on your fingertips”.

She blinked. Her eyebrows lifted. She hesitated, unsure whether to believe me—suspicious this was just some strange game.

“I mean it,” I told her enthusiastically. “I really do. I’m not trying to trick you."

Still uncertain, but a little more open now, she asked,

“Really?”

“YES,” I said, smiling. “Yes—isn’t that freaking amazing?”

I could feel the warmth rising in my chest.

“You are the only human who will ever exist with this exact pattern. Never again will the universe repeat it. It wanted only one of you.”

“Why, Dad? Why?” she asked.

“That,” I said, “is the great mystery. Why does this universe only want one Ava?”

“Maybe our differences are how the universe experiences itself. Just like you, Ava, never draw the same exact picture twice. You’re always trying to find new colours, new patterns. Piper, you explore new corners of the farm every day, each corner your new wonderland. And Macey—you try on a hundred outfits before breakfast, even when it drives Mum completely bonkers. We all sing new songs on the way to school. We dream new dreams. We imagine new futures. Something inside us loves new experiences.”

“Maybe whoever or whatever made us—the universe, the divine, the great unknown—is just as curious and playful. And through us, it explores. It dreams. It learns. I believe the universe streams through each of us like a melody, and each of us sings a different note. We are the forest Piper hasn’t yet discovered. The colour Ava hasn’t yet found. The costume Macey hasn’t tried on.”

Ava’s sisters started casting their beliefs into the mysterious hat of our uniqueness. Macey told me that Nanny said she came to earth from a shooting star. Piper told Macey that was rubbish and we obviously had to come from Gaia, because trees come from Gaia and we can’t breathe without them. As always, Ava just sat there with her heart melting smile, listening to the rabble of her sisters' never ending battle for supremacy.

As soon as the sibling rivalry simmered, I took a more serious pose “Ava… I have spent most my life trying to make something of myself; trying to stand out, to make a difference, to be deemed worthy. But all I was really trying to do is fit in. Your instincts beg you to look and act familiar, to—be like the others— because they are trying to keep you safe. But beyond survival, there's a deeper part of you that does not want to fit in. This part of you will cause you tension for the rest of your life. It’s part of being human.”

“You will not understand it yet, Ava, but the freedom you are gradually saying goodbye to in these moments you wish to be someone else—this freedom is what every adult longs for. Because when we were your age, our instincts also wished to be more like the ‘others’. And guess what? Our wish came true. And that magical part of who we are was left weeping all alone in a deep, dark cave where the sun’s warm rays were forgotten.”

“You can’t possibly understand any of this honey, but what I am trying to say, and one day I hope you’ll understand… you are an expression of the entire cosmos—one that will never exist again. Like a shooting star streaking across the night sky, you are a once-in-forever kind of wonder.”

“What a tragedy it would be if that rare star spent its life wishing it were something else.”

Ava smiled softly with her red, dry tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes and said, “I suppose that would be kind of sad, wouldn’t it” I held back my tears, not because she had finally realised who and what she was, but because I was feeling every word I had just uttered—as if I were a little boy sitting in that chair, hearing these words for the first time.

Ava is reaching an age where the primal urge to be like everyone else feels more intense. It rarely whispers anymore and instead screams and shouts. How do I prepare her for the modern-day tribes who will vie for her membership? Will my elucidation of inner awe and wonder ever stand a chance against their hypnotic drum beat and rhythmic chants. Is it possible to prevent that eternal feud within from slowly tearing her apart?

Or am I standing in the way, trying to block her path? Maybe all I can do is leave a faint trace of footsteps that she can follow back.  

Maybe we each have to lose ourselves, in order to truly find out who we are.

Thank YOU for joining us on this epic journey & supporting Your Organic farmers!