The Wood Carver

IT WAS late afternoon and the place looked sublime, as the reddish sun-rays slipped through the window panes falling on the various carved figures that filled the room, invigorating their lifelike quality. Among the innumerable little wooden wonders one could easily distinguish a few larger ones; a bear standing on hind legs with its fangs exposed, a pack of African elephants carved along a huge oak limb, a brown falcon majestically spreading its wings, and a chessboard carved on the stump of a large tree rooted in the middle of the room, with the figurines resembling exotic animals; the king a lion, the queen a cheetah, the bishop a buffalo, the knight a rhinoceros, the rook an elephant, and the pawns resembled monkeys, all unique in posture and grimace.

The carpenter was sitting on his self-made Windsor chair behind his desk, upon which lay a large piece of mahogany, working on his next masterpiece: a griffin – a mythical creature with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle. Being fully absorbed in his work, he hardly noticed his assistant entering. The boy stood silently at the other end of the room for fear of interrupting him, and waited for his presence to be noticed.

Before long, the boy was captivated by the enchanting environment. The dancing movements of the shadows of the leaves projected on the wooden statues, combined with the soft shush of a nearby stream punctuated by brief sequences of light taps from the carpenter's mallet, composed a true piece of visual and musical art; unintended, yet masterly.

‘Welcome my son,’ said the carpenter in a warm voice, without once turning his eyes to him. The boy, still immersed in the harmony of his surroundings, was unable to respond. The carpenter – always focused on his work – put down the curved gouge, picked up a carving knife and continued. As soon as the boy regained complete consciousness, he started towards the carpenter, taking slow and careful steps on the creaky floor. He approached the desk and reluctantly uttered:

‘You know, sir, tomorrow I will not be here to assist you, nor the day after, nor the day after that.’

Confused by the lack of a reaction by the carpenter, he paused for a few seconds and then proceeded in a more consistent voice with a crescendo of both tone and enthusiasm:

‘I learned so much by your side and I am most grateful, but the time has come for me to open wings and explore the world, for I feel trapped here, considering the vastness of the universe and all that has yet to be discovered. I am now old enough to set out on my own for new lands, new sights, and new experiences.’

Still, the carpenter did not react; he merely went on working as if he was deaf and hadn't heard a word of the boy's dramatic outburst. In anticipation of some kind of response, the boy felt the coldness of the soft breeze coming from the window. The delicate music turned slowly into a dreadful theme. The graphic look of the standing bear with its fangs exposed and the brown falcon with its wide-open wings became threatening, causing droplets of cold sweat to form on his forehead.

The scenery grew more and more hostile until, finally, the carpenter put the carving tools on the desk followed by his thick glasses, looked right into the boy's eyes and, in his mellow tone, said:

‘My dear boy, if you believe that the only way of experiencing the world is by travelling around, its time you had a serious conversation with a tree.’

After uttering this last word, he smiled at him briefly, stood up, and walked towards the auxiliary room. The boy was left standing still in front of the desk, staring yet not seeing. It was getting dark and his frozen figure integrated persuasively among the wooden statues. The carpenter returned carrying a large lantern which he carefully put on the left side of his desk. He took a box of matches out of the cupboard and lit the lamp. The trembling light made the boy's big brown eyes sparkle, giving the impression that his whole intestine was afire. With an impulsive movement he rushed towards the carpenter and embraced him warmly. He then left for his home without either of them saying a single word more.

 He was right on time for supper. The food was already on the table and the family started gathering around, one by one: his father, his mother, and his little sister, always eager to play games with the cutlery and make faces to earn laughs from her brother. After they finished their meal, his mother brought out a delicious apple pie, the sweetness of which filled the whole house. He asked for a second piece and, while watching his mother clean up the table and his father poke the wood in the fireplace, he suddenly realised how many small jolly details of his family life he was then noticing, details which had been passing under his very nose for years.

After kissing both his parents goodnight, he headed upstairs – rather earlier than the usual time. Walking on tiptoe, he kissed his sleeping sister gently on the cheek before getting in his own bed. He fell asleep with a subtle smile on his face, pervaded by the soothing confidence that his body and mind were ready for the day that was to follow.