Free Triptych by Margit Liesche Page B

as in my mother’s case, non-adjustment. “It is impossible to truly appreciate an adopted land, if you do not hold onto some memories of your native land,” I say gently. “Is there something good you have discovered since settling in Sycamore that relates to what you have brought today…the picture?”
    Wai-Ling looks thoughtful for a moment. She smiles shyly. “With help of our kindly neighbor, I have learned how to mail letters at the post office to my mother and sister.”
    Divina, originally from the Philippines, removes a long elegant salmon pink dress from a garment bag. “A traditional costume,” she says, explaining that she’d brought it to wear in a beauty contest she’d come to America, at age seventeen, to attend. Entering the contest was the idea of her sister who was already here, married to an American. After swearing us to secrecy, she shows us the seam that had been re stitched after her sister had removed the currency their parents, unbeknownst to Divina, had hidden in the dress’ lining. “Part of a bigger plan my family work out to allow me to stay here,” she says, the color in her full cheeks rising.
    Ioana shows off a small purse embellished with felt cutouts forming a traditional Russian pattern. Vita from Sicily has brought a lacy black headscarf. Abeba from Eritrea brought the long, roomy robe she’d worn crossing Sudan on camel at night, pregnant with two young children in tow.
    The final few women share their symbols and their stories. As is normal, I close with some words of encouragement, drawing from the many heartfelt memories and remarks expressed during the session.
    I am still basking in the women’s response to their COWWs’ assignment when I reach the vestibule at the entrance to the main room of the library. My soul feels richer, more at peace. You’re making a difference , my heart sings. Helping worlds mesh. Building community .
    Consumed with the swelling notion that what I am doing in my small way might actually have a positive rippling effect, I think of Peter in the Twelve Dancing Princesses .
    The story centers on the mysterious enchantment to which the king’s twelve daughters have fallen prey. Although locked in their bedchamber at night, each morning they emerge pale and tired, with their satin dancing slippers worn through. The king pleads with his daughters for an explanation, but to no avail. Where once they had been open and warmhearted, they now had grown cold and haughty.
    Dismayed, the king makes a proclamation: Whoever discovers how the princesses wear out their shoes can choose one of them for his wife.
    Fairy tales are open to interpretation and many versions have been published since the original by the Brothers Grimm. In my childhood adaptation, it is Peter, a humble gardener, who succeeds after a dozen princes fail the challenge, each one mysteriously disappearing.
    Peter is a farmer from a small village, but has always yearned for a life unlike his own. One night a fair lady appears to him in a dream saying, “Go to the castle and solve the riddle of the princesses.” Off he sets. He takes a gardener position then is quickly besotted by the youngest princess, Elise. Unlike her sisters who ignore the gardener, Elise admires Peter’s hard work and appreciates the beautiful bouquets he leaves for the princesses each day. Her sisters mock Elise when they overhear her thanking him for her flowers and afterward laugh when she comments on his handsomeness. “He is beneath us,” they say.
    Peter admires Elise’s beauty but more than that, he appreciates the spirit she shows in acknowledging him. He determines he must win Elise’s hand. He remembers the fair woman who had appeared to him in a dream at his farm. “Seek help from what you know best,” she’d said. “Through your own gifts you shall succeed.”
    The next day, in his garden, Peter