Tale#21: Bedtime Tales: Episode9:Day When Forest Whispered| Tuesday
The Joy That Lives in Little Moments
It was the day of the long-awaited school field trip.
Sara stood at the edge of the forest trail, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her mouth pulled into a stubborn pout. Her once-white sneakers were now stained with brown patches of mud, and one sock was already wet from stepping into a puddle she hadn’t seen.
She muttered under her breath, “This is the worst day ever.”
Behind her, a bus door slammed shut. The forest loomed tall and green ahead, filled with shadows, damp air, and the earthy smell of pine needles. The sky above was a thick blanket of gray.
This wasn’t the museum trip she had been expecting. Not the quiet galleries. Not the perfect indoor lighting. Not the gift shop filled with shiny souvenirs.
No — this was damp. This was muddy. This was loud with birds and bugs. And worst of all?
Her best friend Layla had stayed home sick.
Zayn, cheerful as ever, jogged up to her side with his water bottle slung over his shoulder like a little adventurer. “Come on, Sara! This place is awesome! Did you see that giant ant mound?!”
Sara rolled her eyes. “There are ants everywhere.”
He frowned, disappointed that her excitement hadn’t caught up with his. “There’s a beaver dam up ahead,” he offered. “Ms. Qadri said we might even see a woodpecker.”
“I don’t care about woodpeckers,” she mumbled.
The group of kids was already ahead, following their teacher and the guide down the winding trail. The leaves above rustled with every breeze. Twigs cracked under hurried feet.
Sara trudged behind, dragging her soles through the dirt path. Every step felt heavier. She didn’t notice the way the wind smelled like wet bark. She didn’t see the way little mushrooms clustered at the foot of old trees like nature’s umbrellas.
She didn’t want to notice.
That’s when she heard a voice beside her.
Quiet. Gentle.
“Sometimes, the world whispers blessings when we stop complaining long enough to hear them.”
Sara turned. It was Ms. Qadri — their calm, always-smiling science teacher. She was walking just beside her, notebook in one hand and binoculars hanging around her neck.
Sara blinked. “What blessings? It’s cold. It’s wet. And it smells weird out here.”
Ms. Qadri didn’t argue. Instead, she stopped and knelt by a fallen log. Carefully, she brushed away some leaves and pointed.
Nestled there, just under the moss, was a tiny row of mushrooms — pale beige, with thin, delicate stems and little domed tops.
“These only grow when it’s exactly this kind of weather,” Ms. Qadri said with a soft smile. “Too hot, and they dry up. Too cold, and they never show. They’re quiet little gifts — but only if you’re paying attention.”
Sara tilted her head. The mushrooms were beautiful in a strange way — like tiny paper lanterns made by the forest.
“I’ve never seen mushrooms like that before,” she admitted.
“You did today,” Ms. Qadri whispered.
Later, while the other kids laughed and took pictures near the stream, Sara wandered a little off-trail and found a mossy stone to sit on. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out her snack — a granola bar she didn’t really want.
She sighed.
Then something moved just at her feet.
A butterfly — soft orange and cream, with delicate lace-like wings — fluttered down and landed silently on a branch no bigger than her finger.
It flapped slowly, as if dancing to a rhythm only it could hear.
Sara held her breath.
Everything around her seemed to soften — the sounds of water trickling in the stream, the hush of wind through the trees, the distant laugh of her classmates echoing like bubbles in the air.
She looked down at her hands.
Then up at the sky.
And then back at the butterfly.
And for the first time that day, she smiled.
She reached into her backpack, pulled out her notebook, and began sketching quietly — the butterfly, the mushrooms, the shapes of leaves dancing above her. For once, she didn’t rush. She noticed. She listened. She was present.
That night, Aymen was tucking Sara into bed. The soft hum of the humidifier filled the room. Her fairy lights glowed like stars across the wall.
“How was the trip?” Aymen asked, brushing back a loose curl from Sara’s forehead.
Sara thought for a moment before answering. She didn’t speak quickly. She didn’t grumble.
“It rained a little. And my socks got wet. And Layla wasn’t there.”
Aymen nodded, waiting.
“But…” Sara added, her voice quiet, “...I saw mushrooms that looked like umbrellas. And a butterfly landed right next to me. And the wind made music with the leaves. And...” she paused, “...I think I heard the forest whisper.”
Aymen raised an eyebrow. “The forest whispered?”
Sara’s smile was small, but real.
“Only when I stopped complaining long enough to hear it.”
As the lights dimmed and the room settled into quiet, Sara pulled the blanket up under her chin and whispered into the dark:
“Thank you, Allah… for muddy socks, and tiny mushrooms, and butterflies I almost missed.”