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There was once a place at Lonely Oak Elementary, in the school's courtyard, different from any other place in the world. There is an iron fence, that has no gate; just an open mouth. The fence surrounds a modest square of land, nestled in the corner outside of where the library joins the first-grade hallway. A cobblestone path marks the entrance of the fence, and on either side of the path are garden plots, where flowers are always blooming.

This was Gentle Ouly's Meadow, and at its heart was The House of Open Minds.

A custodian passed through The Meadow, but he walked much too quickly. He was clearly not able to see it, for it was a magical place that only some people could envision. He carried a box supported with both arms, and as he passed a boy standing at the gate, he smiled. "Have a good summer, now." He spoke with a gravelly voice.

"Yes sir. You, too."

The boy returned his gaze to The Meadow. He took a deep breath, and stepped through the portal.

He felt the air quiver at his presence, and cling to him as if for warmth.

It was eerily quiet. If there were birds in the trees, they were somber and subdued. A slow wind barely stirred the air, and the blades of grass were too deep in the shadows to sway. The sunflowers drooped; tired, and haphazardly calling for a bee or a butterfly to tickle their anthers.

He slowly walked the cobblestone path, overgrown with vines and weeds creeping in the cracks between the rocks.

He passed a brook which once babbled incessantly, but now it had no words. The white windmill's blades were so still, a murder of crows took roost upon their beams. They cawed and taunted at the boy.

He passed a tree with branches so high it sieved the clouds, and yet in the bright sun it had naught a shadow.

The walk was far too short, as many of The Meadow's wonders had disappeared. They left behind only a hill. As he crested the hill, his eyes beheld the most dreaded sight of all.

The House of Open Minds was aged and dilapidated. Panels of its windows had fallen out, support beams were missing or broken on the circumferential rail. Moss collected on one of its faces. Its roof was worn, shining shingles dull and missing in spots. Its front step was split in two. Inside the door ajar, it appeared dark and silent as stone.

He approached the door, wrenched off his shoes, and caught the sun in the golden gleam of the little bell. He hesitated at first, but his hand gently struck the bell once.

Only once, it needed stricken.

It was distant, but he heard a single tweet from a tree.

A gentle, rolling wind suddenly ruffled his hair and shirt.

The crows scattered from the windmill as its blades tilted an eighth-turn.

From within the house, came a gentle crunch; white fingers appeared between the open rift of the door, and then the shoji opened.

"Hello," the tiger greeted.

Her lips parted for just a moment, and then she drew them into a warm smile. "My dear child," Mrs. Oulryk greeted softly, "School ended an hour ago. What are you still doing here?" She stood aside and invited the tiger inside.

"After I walked Emmy home, I came back to see you," he stepped through the door. "I came to say... Goodbye..."

The single-room house was spartan, save for the bookshelves, and the panoramic picture above the bookshelf to the right.

"My dear Arkethius, I'm not going away forever, especially not from you." She sat in the middle of the room. She patted the bare wooden floor in front of her. "Come, sit here. So sorry there's not a cushion, it was just packed away."

"That's all right," he replied, and quietly padded to the indicated spot, where he sat in a half-lotus position. He stared at Mrs. Oulryk for a few moments, and was a little surprised when the bear removed her glasses.

She appeared to look him over, but her eyes did not move aside from the back-and-forth wobble of her old muscles trying to keep focus. The light from the sun began to heighten, and the tiger began to glow an orange-gold, like the statue at the guard of an Egyptian tomb.

"How do you feel, Arkethius?"

He looked away, shaking his head. "You've retired," he softly objected.

"My child, I will always be your counselor," she retorted, resting her hand on his knee. "Now tell me, do you maybe feel a little sad?"

He fought the rising heat in his cheeks. "What about you?" He asked, redirecting the question. He looked at the bear, her sweet smile soft as the sunlight through the paneled windows.

"I am very sad." She admitted. "I will dearly miss this place. I have seen so many children. Listened to their stories. Soothed their woes. Now, many of them are grown up, or just now making their way into this world." She looked up. "Some of them still send me letters, you know? That makes me happy."

"I wish--"

He froze, his eye half-closed.

Her gaze fell gently upon him, his golden fur turned bronze.

"What do you wish, dear?"

"I wish... It didn't have to end..." He choked.

"All good things must," the old bear quoted; "But such endings are the start of new experiences."

The house snapped and popped, adjusting to the sudden coolness as the sun disappeared behind a cloud.

Bronze turned to sand.

"Arkethius," she said, moving to sit in a lotus position, rather than her knees. "I just want you to know, that you are not the first one to feel this way, and you will not be the last."

He nodded passively.

"I know moving to a different school can be a daunting feeling," she began, "but you are not the only one going through it. Many of your classmates are, too, and many of them are going to Redcliff with you--"

"It's not that," he interrupted. "I'm sorry."

"No, no," she patted his knee, "that's all right."

"I know everyone is scared about middle school. I kind of am too, but I have my friends and they'll be there. We won't be totally alone."

"You will never be 'totally alone,' Arkethius."

"I just..." He leaned back, breaking the formal position and supporting his lean on his palms. "I just wish I could... Do it all over again."

The old bear tilted her head, blinking slowly as she deeply pondered his words. "How do you mean?"

"I wish I could rewind it like a tape," he said, sitting upright again, making gestures as he talked, "It feels like it went by too fast. I mean, this is the best year I've had here by far, especially after the last few, and... I just want to have another one... Before I go. Before we go."

Mrs. Oulryk sighed. "I'm afraid... I know exactly how you feel." She slumped just a little, folding her hands in her lap. "Sometimes... I wish I could go back and relive some parts of my life, too. Except..." She looked at the young tiger, "I would wish to change them. For the better."

The tiger blinked, and he suddenly had a spark in his eyes.

"He forgives you."

The sun peeked out, returning sand to gold, and sent another breeze to stir the flowers.

The bear's lips rose just a bit in the corners. "Only because it comes through you, I can accept that is the truth."

"I forgive you, too," he stated with a subdued sincerity, and boldly raised his arms for an embrace.

"Hm," Mrs. Oulryk said with a chuckle, accepting the hug. "Thank you," she said solemnly; "for reminding me you do. It means a lot to me." The warm hug lasted a moment more, before he gently eased back to kneeling. "There, now. Are you feeling better?"

He looked down at the bare wooden floor. "There's still... One thing..." He mentioned, a little nervously.

She cupped his chin, raising his gaze. "Tell me," she said simply.

"It's about... You leaving," he said. "I'm worried..."

"About The Meadow?" Gentle Ouly finished. The boy nodded as she sat back.

"It's sad," he said, "it's already withering away."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Because... It's worried. It doesn't know what'll happen to it."

"And you worry, too?"

He nodded.

"You are worried, that whomever replaces me will neglect The Meadow, and that it will disappear."

He nodded again.

"Tell me, then. Who would you entrust to replace me and tend The Meadow?"

His lips unhinged. He blinked a few times, his mind fuzzy at the question. "Well... Uhm..." He searched for an answer, not expecting to need one.

"Knock-knock!" Came a voice from beyond the front door.

"Come in," Mrs. Oulryk invited.

The shoji slid open with a whisper. "I just came by to check--oh, am I interrupting?"

"Not at all, Holly. Please, come in."

The raccoon stood at the entrance for only a second before removing her shoes and stepping upon the wooden floor proper. "Ket, what are you doing here? I thought I saw you leaving with Emmy at the crosswalk."

"Sorry if I may respond for him," Mrs. Oulryk chimed, "But he came because he was a little worried about something." She nudged her gaze upon him. "Go on, dear. Why don't you tell her what you told me?"

Ket bit his lip. Talking so loosely about The Meadow felt odd. It was a secret shared by the kids and never mentioned to the teachers. Ms. Hupp would probably think he was being immature; letting his imagination childishly loose. He took in a breath. "There's... This place that the kids here call Gently Ouly's Meadow," he explained.

"I know about it," Ms. Hupp told the tiger.

"Oh..." He fumbled for words. "Well... I was just telling... Mrs. Oulryk that... It's sort of... Sad, that she's leaving. I'm worried that when she's gone, no one will take care of it."

Ms. Hupp nodded. "I see," she said, and then patted her knees twice very emphatically. "Well then, I promise to take care of it as best I can, just for you."

His eyes flickered. "You--?" His voice caught. "You're--?" He looked between his former teacher and his former counselor.

Mrs. Oulryk smiled with a gentleness to match her name. "Do you approve of my choice, Arkethius?"

He blinked. "I... Yeah, but," he looked to his teacher, "Why--How?"

Ms. Hupp smoothed her jeans. "I was a counselor in another life, before I got the bug to be a teacher. When Mrs. Oulryk came to me and asked if I'd be willing to take her position, I wasn't too sure... That is, until the incident between you and Ritzer." She sighed, almost guiltily. "I need to go back to that. Taking care of The Meadow will be a good opportunity for me."

"Hello in there," came another voice, gravelly and rough.

"Yes, Steward?" Mrs. Oulryk asked, getting up with a huff.

"I got everything in my truck, ma'am," the custodian said. "I'm ready to go whenever you are, just say the word."

Mrs. Oulryk turned back to take one last look at the inside of The House of Open Minds. "I wish that I had a camera..."

"I've got mine," Ms. Hupp said, jumping up and heading for the door. "It's right here in my purse," she dug around for a second, and pulled out a modest digital camera.

"You're already taking things into good hands," Mrs. Oulryk said approvingly. "Arkethius, would you like to take a picture with me?"

The tiger was already up, and now he hastily shuffled the last couple of steps to the door. "Sure," he said, with quiet enthusiasm.

They went outside to the porch of the Japanese-style home. Ms. Hupp stood to the left of the step, while Ms. Oulryk sat upon the porch. Ket stood in between them, while the custodian took the camera and stood back to where the monument was.

"Everybody say 'Oak Trees'!"

The camera flashed. The picture was perfect. All three faces smiled, Ms. Hupp the only one showing her teeth, excited for her new position and responsibility.

Mrs. Oulryk was peaceful, and content leaving everything in the hands of the future.

Finally, standing to the right of the little bell, which let off a sparkle as golden as his fur, a young tiger of age eleven, twice through fifth grade, looked beyond the camera, as if staring into the eyes of anyone's that caught him in the photograph.

The picture dropped from his hand, resting inside of the box that smelled of pine trees rustling in the wind. The lid shut with a bit of a creak, and solemnly the box was returned to its secretive disguise within his headboard.

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