This is a story about a boy and his grandmother. It is purely a fantasy and was written just for the fun of it. I hope you like it.
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Bradley Marshall walked along the trail forty or so yards ahead of his grandmother taking in all the forest had to offer. After spending his entire eighteen years of life in the concrete jungle of the city, the forest around him was a world of unimaginable beauty. The sight of lush green trees bursting with spring foliage and bushes sprouting spectacular flowers in every shape and color assaulted his senses. And the air, he couldn't believe how crisp and clear it was. He was happy that he'd chose to spend the summer here instead of going to the coast like his family always did in the spring. Up ahead he noticed the trail turned sharply to the left. He slowed just a little when he heard his grandma say, "Bradley honey, don't get too far ahead."
Myrtle watched as her grandson strolled ahead of her getting farther away than she was comfortable with. She was all too aware that he'd never been in the woods before and was worried that he might get sidetracked if she didn't keep him in sight. She chuckled to herself as she watched his head swivel around trying to take everything in at the same time. She was pleased that he was here. Of all her grandkids Bradley was the one that had always been closest to her. On her visits to her son's house the other kids just asked what she'd brought them, but not Bradley. Since her husband Abe had passed away eight years ago he had always asked if there was anything he could do for her. They grew close over the years, or at least as close as one could get when you only saw each other three or four times a year. He was headed off to college come fall so she'd asked if he wanted to come stay with her for the summer. The trail they were on stretched for several miles into the woods and was popular with day hikers and mountain bikers alike. To reach the trail from her place only took a minute since it intersected her property near the roadway. She grew a little irritated when he didn't wait for her and his lanky frame disappeared around a bend.
Just when he rounded the turn sunlight flashed off something shiny to his left in the underbrush. He couldn't quite make out what it was from where he stood so he stepped off the trail and went over to investigate. The cargo shorts he was wearing didn't help stop the underbrush from scraping against his legs but he was determined to find out what the shiny object was. It turned out to be a discarded bent rim from a mountain bike. Picking it up with one hand he examined it closely. Just as he was about to put it down he heard his grandma call out sharply.
"Bradley! Put that down and get over here right now!"
The tone of her voice shocked him. Not once had he ever heard her raise her voice, at least not to him anyway. Dropping the rim he trudged up the slight incline and back onto the trail. Once he was near her she asked if he'd touched the rim with both hands. After he told her no she had him hold out the hand he'd grabbed the rim with and quickly wrapped it with a bandana she pulled out of her back pocket. He was confused. When he asked her why she was wrapping his hand she told him it was so he wouldn't touch any part of his body with it. He was even more confused by that. He noticed the look she was giving him; one of sadness mixed with anxiety.
"There's an old saying when you're out in the woods," she said, as she secured the bandana around his hand with bobby pins she removed from her blackish-grey hair.
"What saying Grandma?"
Looking up into his eyes she simply replied, "Leaves of three let them be."
Bradley's confusion was evident on his young face so she explained that he'd been standing in a patch of poison oak.
"Poison Oak! Am I gonna die?" he squealed in fright.
"No sweetie, you're not going to die," she chuckled. She was amused that he was so much like his dad, a city slicker through and through.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, but I need to get you back to the house so I can take care of this right away."
On the way back she had to constantly reassure him that everything was going to be okay. She also told him that he wasn't going to like the treatment she was about to administer but it had to be done to stop the urushiol oil from spreading. By the time they reached the house she had explained the effects of poison oak to him. She told him that if they could get as much of the oil off as possible there was a good chance that he'd be as good as new in a few days or so. By the worried look on his face she was fairly sure that he wasn't as confident about that as she was.
"Your Grandpa did this a couple of times, so relax and I'll take care of everything," she said as soothingly as she could.
"So you've dealt with this before?" Bradley asked, a glimmer of hope slipping into his voice.
Myrtle laughingly said, "More times than I care to think about. Although I think Abe deliberately got infected a time or two because he liked the attention."
"The attention?"
"You'll understand when we get home."
The hike back to her house took a little over fifteen minutes. Instead of going inside Myrtle had him follow her out into the back yard and told him to wait for her. She went inside and came back out wearing the bright yellow rubber gloves that she used for washing the dishes. She was also carrying a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a bar of soap and two washcloths. She sat these items on the rickety old picnic table on the back patio before going and grabbing the garden hose. Once she had it uncoiled and ready to use she gave him a serious look and told him to strip off all his clothes.