Once upon a time, in 1524, there was a young peasant named Winter. She was an unusual person who appeared to love being a lonely peasant. No one in the village could understand why anyone would enjoy living in a shack, or getting their water from a lake, but Winter did. Or, at least, that was what everyone thought.
One day, a villager, Bill, asked Winter how she was so happy with her life the way it was. She replied, “I’m not happy. I am actually very depressed, thank you very much. But every morning I tell myself to put on a smile, no matter how hard it is.” Bill stared at her with a puzzled expression.
“How are you depressed? Everyone I know considers you to be the most joyful person alive,” he questioned.
“Well for one thing, I’m a peasant. Would you be happy about that,” Winter answered. “I also used to have a friend. We were best friends. That is, until she left. My ‘best friend’ left without even having the decency to tell me until I wrote her a letter asking if she wanted to get together! Ever since then, I have been scared of making friends. I also became depressed, crying myself to sleep every night. During the day, I try to be as upbeat as I can manage.”
Bill nodded and, like Winter, was on the verge of tears. However, unlike Winter, he couldn’t hold the tears back for very long. He began to cry like a two-year-old. When he was finally able to calm down (it felt like hours), Winter had gone back to her shack, and Bill headed back to his house.
Bill was restless that night; he had never met anyone with the same experiences with friends as him. Winter and Bill became best friends until the day Bill left town to get a new start with his life. It was easier on Winter because he told her he was leaving in advance.
By Lauren Hutchins