Antzy

Antzy

“Imaginary friends have big noses, unless they are ants. They do all have big stories.” Grandpa tapped his pipe on the ashtray. He reached inside his vest pocket, pulled out an envelope and carefully took out a square of cardboard and handed it to his grandson. “What is this grandpa? Where did you get it?” The little boy looked up at his grandfather, his fine brown eyebrows knitted together. “Well, Jacob, this is a picture of my imaginary friend.” Jacob’s blue eyes got big and round. “You had an imaginary friend! Wow! What’s his name and why is he green? Why is he wearing that scarf around his neck?

“Whoa, son - his name is Antzy. I’ll answer the rest of your questions but let’s get some lunch first. Your mother is calling.”

~~~~~

Jacob and his grandfather were the best of friends. They always talked over these puzzling sorts of things. But Jacob had never heard of this Antzy. His grandfather - wow! He finished his sandwich and milk. He watched his grandfather’s big hands holding his sandwich and tried to imagine them drawing that picture. He was a carpenter that used hammers, saws, screwdrivers. He just couldn’t imagine him as a little boy, even though he’d seen pictures of him as a boy. He squirmed with anticipation in his chair. “Well, Jacob, Antzy came to me when I was the same age as you. He started out being a real ant! Mother and I were out walking one Saturday. On the old wooden sidewalk was a long line of ants. I squatted down and watched them creeping in their long row. I asked mother where they were going but she just told me to step away from them and ask father when we got home.” He smiled and tipped his head towards Jacob. “My mother, your great grandmother didn’t care much for ants or any creepy crawly bugs.” Jacob didn’t really care about that part of the story. He wanted to hear more about Antzy. “Anyway, I did get away from that marching line of ants but not until one fellow climbed up the side of my pants, up the front of my shirt and dropped right into my shirt pocket.” Jacob’s face had crumpled. “But grandpa that was a real ant, not imaginary.” His grandfather chuckled. “But you haven’t heard everything, Jacob.” Jacob leaned back impatiently in his kitchen chair. “So was he magic?” His grandfather picked up the dishes and carried them to the sink. “Now where were we? Oh yes, was he magic? No….or maybe he was. An ordinary ant fell in my pocket and disappeared. I forgot all about him until I took off my shirt at night when I was getting ready for bed. When I checked my pocket - I turned it upside down and shook it out - it was nowhere to be found. That night, I got out my sketch book ~ I was supposed to be in bed asleep ~ and drew this picture. All my paints were downstairs and all I could find was a green crayon. That’s when I named him Antzy and why he is green.” Jacob was still not satisfied. “Why did you give him a red scarf, grandpa?” His grandfather picked up the little sketch and smiled at his old friend. “I didn’t, Jacob.” “You didn’t? But how……….” His little face scrunched up trying to puzzle it out. “When I woke up in the morning, the funny bowtie ~ not just a scarf ~ was on the sketch. Sometimes it would be red ~ sometimes blue ~ sometimes yellow with polka dots. He stayed in my bedroom and whenever I needed someone to talk to about serious things, or funny things or really anything, Antzy would crawl out from wherever he had been hiding. We’d laugh and laugh. His bowtie would turn all different colours. When I was sad, the bowtie would be purple or black. When I was happy, yellow or pink. ” Jacob interrupted. “Why is this one red?” His grandfather went to the back door, took his coat and Jacob’s jacket down. “I never knew why Antzy started out with red, the colour for anger. Come Jacob, let’s go for that walk.” Jacob’s dog, Butch had been completely ignored in the excitement of Antzy’s story was being told. “Do you think we could find another Antzy?” He clipped on Butch’s leash and followed his grandfather out the door. 

“Everything you can imagine is real.”

~ Pablo Picasso