In a tiny farmhouse, past thousands of rows of things that grow, lived a little girl named Anastasia. Anastasia lived with her mother, her father, and her grandmother, all working together on their farm.
One day while peeling ears of corn for the evening meal, Anastasia discovered a bright red speckled bug, happily munching on the cob. “Look Grandma, look,” Anastasia shouted, “look at this funny little bug!”
Grandma’s eyes grew wide with a smile. “Oh my, “she said, “that’s a Ladybug. Can you hear it singing?”
Anastasia raised the cob up against her ear, but couldn’t hear anything.
“Now remember,” Grandma whispered, “ladybugs have tiny little mouths, so you have to listen very carefully.”
Anastasia continued listening, but the ladybug made no sound. Instead it popped open its bright red shell and fluttered off into the blue sky. “And something else about ladybugs you may not know,” Grandma said, “is if you learn to speak softly enough for their tiny ears to hear, ladybugs have the power to grant wishes.”
Anastasia’s eyes lit up. “Really Grandma, like a real wish?”
Grandma nodded. “Yes, anything you desire, as long as the wish truly comes from your heart.”
Anastasia thought about all the wonderful things she could ask for—a pony or diamond tipped shoes or a dollhouse bigger than her home. All that night she dreamed and giggled with the possibilities.
The next day, Anastasia went out in to the field of wavy grass. She sat on a hill looking up into the sky, still wondering what she should wish for first. After a while, she spotted a family of ladybugs enjoying a juicy green leaf. Remembering what Grandma had said, she closed her eyes and listened as closely as she could.
Slowly, softly, quietly it came.
A sound so beautiful, wrapping all around her, making her feel safe and happy. It was the loveliest thing she had ever heard; she sat in the field all afternoon, listening to the tender music.
The clang of the dinner bell eventually broke the spell. Anastasia stood up and ran down the hill towards the farmhouse.
She bounced up the porch steps and through the screen door, yelling, “I heard it Grandma! I saw some ladybugs and I listened real hard, like you said, and I heard it! I heard the song and it was wonderful!”
Her Father raised an eyebrow and her Mother smiled and spoke. “Your Grandma used to tell me that very same story when I was your age. It’s just your imagination, darling.”
Anastasia knew what she heard, and that it wasn’t her imagination. “Well then,” she offered, “why don’t you come up to the field with me tomorrow and you can hear it for yourself?”
Her Father jumped in. “Sweet Pickle, you know your Mother and I would love to spend the day relaxing in the tall grass, but the harvest is coming and we’ve got too much work to do.”
Anastasia persisted. “Well, what about you, Grandma? Will you come listen to the ladybugs with me?”
Grandma shook her head and stroked Anastasia’s hair. “I’m sorry Pumpkin, but my ears are too old to hear a song that faint, and my Arthritis is acting up again. I’d better keep to the porch for a while.”
The next day, Anastasia went out to the pond at the bottom of the hill. She sat on a fallen tree stump, skipping stones across the water. Suddenly, a bright red ladybug landed on her hand. She pulled it close to her ear and listened. After the sound of the wind and grass faded, the song once again began filling her head and her heart with its magical sound. With the softest breath, she whispered, “I wish my family could hear your wonderful song.”
With that, the song stopped, and the little bug flew away. Anastasia sat by the water, feeling just a bit sorry for herself because nothing seemed to be going her way. She stomped up the grassy hill to the farmhouse; Grandma was on the porch knitting and Father was busy tuning up the old tractor near the barn.
Anastasia climbed the steps slowly and plopped herself down on the top, her head hunched into her hands. Grandma put her knitting down and asked, “What is the problem, my child?”
Anastasia pouted. “I just wish you all could hear the song like I do. Mom doesn’t even believe that it’s real.”
Grandma smiled. “I believe you, dear. You have an open mind and an honest heart; those are the two things you need to see what magic this world has to offer.”
Anastasia felt better and she returned Grandma’s smile. She looked down and noticed a ladybug on her hand again. And another one, and another one, and one on her dress, and one crawling across the porch, and several
more zipping through the air. Grandma noticed that the columns of the house were swimming with dozens, no hundreds, of bright red bugs. The sky slowly filled with a shining red cloud, so big that Mother came out from the house still holding a Mason jar, and Father pulled away from the tractor’s levers and knobs, scratching his head at the swirling red fog around him.
And then it began. Anastasia was the first to hear it, but soon, her Mother, her Father and her Grandma all heard the song as well. They stood together, eyes lifted to the sky, listening hand in hand to the beautiful music. The cloud of ladybugs drifted high in the air, each one singing in perfect harmony, bathing the family in their magical harmony loudly enough for everyone to hear.
As she grew older, Anastasia often went out to the fields to listen to the ladybugs, and to occasionally make another wish or two. Some of her wishes came true, others did not, but on that special day she learned that the greatest gifts are the ones that you can share with people you love.
The end
