The Story of May the Pumpkin

When she first emerged in the garden patch beneath the warmth of the midday sun, she didn’t know that she held so much potential.  Or of the wonderful surprise that lie in store for her. 

But eight-year-old Tommy did.

“Hello, May,” the sandy haired boy whispered to the tiny budding fruit that he had grown from a seed given to him. “Welcome to the world.”

May was no ordinary pumpkin.  She could sense Tommy’s presence when he visited his grandparent’s garden and looked forward with great excitement to the time when he would arrive, his grandfather at his side.  She could feel the devotion he put into her care as he watered her and pruned the vines of her plant, ensuring her proper growth and development.  Tommy would often sit in the garden dirt and talk to her in gentle tones that made her feel as though she were the only important thing in his life. 

“I was told plants like to be talked to,” Tommy had said to her with a small chuckle of laughter one day.  “It supposed to help them grow.”

As the months passed, not only had May grown, but her adoration for Tommy had grown as well and she wished there was some way she could repay his devotion to her.  But, what was a simple pumpkin to do? Certainly she couldn’t care for Tommy in the way he cared for her.  She could not move as he did; she had no arms to hold him or legs with which to walk to see him every day.  She could do nothing more than sit in the center of the garden and wait for him to arrive on warm, sunny days and for the rains to pass on dreary, overcast ones.

Time took over; May merely grew bigger.

And every day she wondered what she could possibly do for him.

Beneath the heat of the sun on a sultry day in August, the answer had come to May.  She knew it would be the perfect way to show her appreciation for all Tommy had done for her.

“In October,” Tommy said to his grandfather as they weeded together, “May’s gonna win the blue ribbon for being the best pumpkin at our town fair.”

“Is that so?” his grandfather replied in an amused tone.  “Is winning a blue ribbon that important to you?”

“Of course,” Tommy said, his own voice reflecting determination.  “I’ve never had a blue ribbon before.  You just watch.  She’ll beat ’em all.”

“And what makes you think that, Tommy?” his grandfather asked.  “She hasn’t any greater chance than the other pumpkins there.”

“Because there’s something different about May,” Tommy told him.  “I just know there is.”

Tommy didn’t realize just how right he was. 

The heat of mid-summer slipped away as the crisp, freshness of fall took its place.  Throughout that time, night after long night, May pushed to grow larger and more beautiful.  If the blue ribbon that Tommy had spoken about that day was that important to him, then it was even more important to her that he get one.  She began to overshadow the other pumpkins in the patch, green tendrils of her vine curling about her stem.

As May grew at an alarming rate, each day she would hear Tommy exclaim excitedly to his grandfather:  “Look at May now!  I think she’s gotten bigger overnight!  Again!”

“That’s silly,” his grandfather would reply, “a pumpkin can’t grow that fast.”

Despite his words, a hint of doubt in the tone of his voice made May even more determined to grow.

At last the day of the town fair arrived.  Mid-autumn had brought out vibrant colors, adorning the trees in hues of gold, red, and bright orange.  May sensed Tommy approach her as he crunched through the dead leaves that had fallen into the garden patch.  He and his grandfather had stopped nearby and May beamed with pride at how much she had grown.  Without a doubt she would be the biggest and the best at the town fair.  Tommy would indeed get the blue ribbon he wanted.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take one of the others?” his grandfather asked, uncertain.

“I’m sure,” Tommy said. 

Her stem was cut, and together Tommy and his grandfather hoisted her onto the back of the pickup truck.

She was on her way to win the blue ribbon for Tommy.

Tommy placed May upon a table in the center of a large field amidst other pumpkins of various sizes.  Some were round and smooth, others were funny looking and bumpy, still others were tiny and had nearly gotten hidden by those bigger than them.  Some were even indeed bigger than she was! 

Amongst them, May didn’t feel special at all.  She felt lonely and afraid as Tommy hung a small card with a number on it around her stem and gave her a gentle pat.

“Entry number twenty-nine,” Tommy’s grandfather commented.  “Looks like there’s a lot to be judged.”

“Don’t worry, May,” Tommy whispered to her, “we’ll be back.”

He and his grandfather strolled off hand-in-hand into the crowd. 

As the day wore on, the people who wandered about the fair, and had at one time passed by without a glance toward the pumpkins, began to gather around the table.  May sensed the excitement in the air.  An important-looking, gray-haired man holding a clipboard stepped forward and began to look each pumpkin over carefully. 

Moments passed and May began to worry.  What if they picked another better, larger pumpkin? Tommy would be so disappointed; he wouldn’t get the blue ribbon he wanted. 

In desperation, May tired to prove she was the biggest and best, to force herself to grow even more as the man with the clipboard looked her over.  But, having been cut from her vine, May could not manage an inch more.  It was too late.  He had already turned away to the pumpkin next to her, the last in line. 

The crowd fell hushed.

“I am pleased to announce,” the man shouted as he held up a blue ribbon, “that I award this to entry number . . .” May began to shiver with excitement. “Thirty!”

An explosion of applause came from the crowd as the blue ribbon was placed around the stem of the pumpkin next to May.  The crowd broke up as quickly as it had gathered as the people strolled off into different directions, the judging over.

May felt Tommy’s hand upon her.  “It’s alright,” he whispered to her.  “I didn’t need a blue ribbon anyway.”

Still, May couldn’t let go of her sadness at having let down Tommy; no blue ribbon like he always wanted.  They would go home empty handed.

Tommy and his grandfather lifted her from the table.

“Excuse me, young man? Is that your pumpkin?”

The man with the clipboard had returned with something in his hand.

Tommy nodded.  “Yes,” he replied.

The man draped the string of a blue ribbon over May’s stem.  “I couldn’t let this pass,” he explained.  “That is the most extraordinary pumpkin I’ve ever seen.”

“Why is that?” Tommy’s grandfather asked.

“Well,” the man said, “I’ve been judging pumpkins for a long time, you see, but I’ve never seen a pumpkin do what that one did.”

Tommy and his grandfather looked at each other curiously.

“It seemed to grow right before my very eyes,” the man said as he turned away.  “The most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen.”

Tommy smiled.  “I told you, Grandpa,” he said as they carried May back to their truck.  “There’s something different about her.” 

There was indeed. 

May was no ordinary pumpkin.

She had at last made her boy, Tommy, very happy.