Good Wood

by Zhou Peien 

When Sam was about to be born, his father owned a large piece of wood. It was very Good Wood. He sawed and trimmed and nailed and glued, until he made a nice, Good Bed for Sam. When it was finished, and newborn Sam slept peacefully in its embrace, his father looked on with an admiring eye, saying:

“That’s a Good Bed, made from Good Wood!"

As Sam grew older, his father saw that the toddler bed became too small for him. So, he took the Good Bed and sawed and trimmed and nailed and glued, until he had made a Good Mini Shelf. Sam received this Good Mini Shelf on the day he turned six. He was very pleased, and his father was pleased too, saying:

“Sam, that’s a Good Shelf, made from a Good Bed, made from Good Wood!”

The shelf was daily decked with books, but as Sam grew, the number of books grew too. One day, his father got him a bigger shelf, and the books were removed from the Good Shelf. Then Sam’s father took the Good Shelf, and sawed and trimmed and nailed and glued, until he had fashioned a Good Storage Box. He gave it to Sam as a birthday present on his twelfth birthday, to store his sundry and curious items. Sam was delighted, and at once heaped it with his boyish treasures. Sam’s father stood amused, and remarked: “That’s a Good Box, made from a Good Shelf made from a Good Bed, made from Good Wood!”

Sam continued growing. Years passed by, and his family increased. They moved to a bigger house, and Sam had a bigger room. He had large shelves stacked with books. He had a big and comfortable bed. He had wonderful storage boxes. He no longer needed the Good Box, so it was stored away in the storeroom. 

More years passed by, and the Good Box remained untouched. Dust and grit set on it, and it grew musty with age. Yet it remained the same Good Box until… …

One day, as eighteen-year-old Sam racked his brain on a birthday present for his father, he suddenly remembered the Good Bed he had had as a toddler. What had become of it? He thought hard, then recalled into mind that it had changed into the Good Shelf, holding wonderful books to which he had approached to gorge in. Then what? It was some time before he could remember the Good Treasure Box which had been his boyhood’s chief delight. Then it had become a…a…

Hard as he tried, Sam could remember nothing. But a thought struck him: that Good Wood must be found! He searched around the whole house, and finally came to an old and musty box. Eagerly he brushed away the dirt and grit. He smiled at the box in his hand. It was Good Wood!

Sam went into his own room. He sawed and trimmed and nailed and glued. On his father’s birthday, Sam handed him a piece of wooden board, with fine carvings on them. It showed in large letters: GOOD WOOD. Sam’s father hung it proudly on the wall. His eyes shone softly as he turned to his son. Sam said:

“Father, that Good Board’s made from the Good Box, made from the Good Shelf, made from the Good Bed. And that Good Bed is made from real Good Wood!”

-THE END-