FOUND: The Found Child By Maggie Robertson

Week 4: Found
Word Count: 498
The Found Child
By Maggie Robertson
The morning woke up to a rainbow-sherbet sunrise; striking beauty delivered with a hint of interesting times ahead. The youth-challenged couple strolled through their garden to forage for breakfast, and there he was, nestled between the pole beans and pumpkin vines, his forest-green swaddling blending in with the vibrant summer-solstice hue of the garden.
The child looked like he had dropped from the sky. No, wait. He looked like he had come straight from the Earth, pushed up from the ground like a newly sprouting seed; so vulnerable, yet so strong. There were no signs of an intruder; no tracks or trampled plants, no indications of comings or goings. They never did find out where he came from or how he got there.
She wanted to name the child after a garden plant, maybe Basil, or Heliotrope, or Spud. The Old Man rejected those notions.
“We’ll call him Kyle,” he declared.
Like the plants that surrounded him that morning in the garden, Kyle grew quickly. With both the grounding and the fortitude of a tree, he was his own person right from his very beginning.
As a toddler, he was solid, unbreakable. He seemed to take the lumps and bumps as all a part of life, determined to learn how to get his body to do what he wanted it to do. His early years were spent in great delight exploring the fields and woods, spending most of his time outdoors. He survived school well enough, but when he arrived home at the end of the day, he’d pitch his books through the door and head to the hills.
In adolescence he was not unpopular, but his close friends were a select few. He had a way of bringing calm and a sense of safety to those around him, as if he was the Earth itself. As he grew into adulthood, splendid chaos was frequently left in his wake as he challenged conventions in ways that were both confounding and ultimately successful. He moved through life like an icebreaker, opening the sea for those following.
He met Katherine on a day much like the one on which he was Found. The earliest morning sun painted hues of reds, yellows, and oranges across the eastern sky. Kyle wandered into the local diner for a rare treat of breakfast cooked and served by someone else.
She walked through the door, dusty and worn, with that slightly crazed look in her eyes of someone who has been on the move for too may hours. The diner was otherwise empty; she sat down right across the table from him.
“Thanks for breakfast.” She said.
“Same to you.” He replied.
When she woke up in his spare room a day and a half later, her essence had already permeated into the far reaches of the home. Like Kyle, there was never an explanation of where she had come from, only a knowledge that she had arrived just where she was supposed to be.

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