“Why in the world do you walk sideways like that?” said a Mother Crab to her son. “You should always walk straight forward with your toes turned out.”
“Show me how to walk, mother dear,” answered the little Crab obediently, “I want to learn.”
So the old Crab tried and tried to walk straight forward. But she could walk sideways only, like her son. And when she wanted to turn her toes out she tripped and fell on her nose.
“You should see the world,” my mother told me. She said this constantly, with different words or the same, in paragraphs of thought or a sudden burst of guidance. Mostly she would remind me of this when she stood alone in the kitchen. She would scrub the dishes, expend incredible energy on soap scum, and call to me in the dining room–“go see things out there!” Of course I’d know what she was referencing. I had been shown photos of monuments, been read biographies of French and Finnish leaders–I knew what places felt like.
I would sit in a corner of the living room, feeling. These places were not immediate to me. My places were, my places surrounded me and comforted me, and while I knew more places existed, I couldn’t imagine not feeling the same there. I walked often in my neighbor’s garden, peering at hidden flowers behind bushes, gently caressing petals, sometimes saying hello to my neighbor and often enjoying what she had to say. Other places, too, had flowers; and if they didn’t, they had other delicacies that played the same role for them as flowers did for me. Other places had people, too, amiable people, people who let you experience their flower garden with no commentary or question, and likely had people who lacked kindness or had no gardens.
I grew to understand that my mother had not seen things out there. “Out there” no longer meant Europe or South America. Her command–be cultured, experience more–was fair, was understandable, but she wanted much more for me than airplane tickets. I wanted more for me than airplane tickets.
Author’s note: The fable is provided above: “The Young Crab and His Mother.” This fable can be found in Aesop for Children, published in 1919. The moral at the end of the fable says, “Do not tell others how to act unless you can set a good example.” I hoped to start at a similar place with my story–to have a mother figure who longs for her child. I did not want to leave certainty at the end, however. I did not want an adage easily taken away. I did not want the daughter to rebel and disprove her mother. I wanted the mother’s wish to be general and good and one that most caregivers would feel. I wanted the child to see this and see other places and understand that her mother’s wish is well-intended and desirable. The fable has a point; one cannot be a hypocrite in relating to others. But for a mother who could not travel the world, desiring that her daughter travels is understandable and good. And for a daughter who doesn’t want to immediately travel the world, understanding her mother’s desire is preferable, too.
alicelbarrett 
What a great transformation of the story, Alice! Aesop’s fables are often kind of mean-spirited, like in this one where the focus is on how the little crab is taunting his mother for being hypocritical, and then the mother is foolish enough to try to walk in some other way and fell down. Not a very nice crab mother, and not a very nice crab son either! You gave it such a different feeling, still with a tension between parent and child, but not so mean-spirited as the Aesop, more with a feeling of longing but also that sense of yearning and existential uncertainty about just what to do with ourselves in this life. Great stuff!
For links on the web, it’s important to use link text (like the way you linked to the Aesop for Children in the note), as opposed to the raw http like in the image caption. I’m not quite sure what the editor looks like in WordPress, but whatever you did to create that Aesop for Children link is definitely the way to go! 🙂
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At first, I had a hard time seeing the connection between the fable and your story, but the author’s note made it perfectly clear. I imagine that many parents can relate to the situation you described, telling their kids to do something that they themselves haven’t actually done but wished that they had or could. I understand the moral Aesop sought to impart: don’t expect others to do things that you yourself could not achieve (e.g. have perfect grades or be a perfect individual). However, I feel that sometimes we wish to help others learn from and avoid mistakes that we ourselves have made and this is not an unreasonable endeavor. The mother in your story did not go out and see the world, and she regrets her missed opportunity. Presumably, she gained responsibilities (e.g. raising her daughter) that prevented her from traveling and she doesn’t want her daughter making the same mistake and missing out on her opportunity to see the world before it becomes harder for her to do so.
Although the story was short, you were able to create a strong tone of tension and reluctance (on the part of the daughter) to leave home. I can relate to both the mother and the daughter for I, too, have a desire to travel and see the world but, at the same time, I’m reluctant to leave the place I call home which is so familiar and full of people and things I love.
Overall, great job!
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I really enjoyed how you took Aesop’s fable and crafted your own story from it using a completely different set of characters. For my story I just recreated a more detailed story from the fable using the same characters and main plot. It never occurred to me to retell the story in a fashion such as you did. This gives me inspiration to attempt this in my next storytelling attempt! Like Shelby stated above, at first I was not completely seeing the connection between the two stories. The author’s note was a great addition because it told of your complete intentions with the story and showed how your story became crafted. Great job!
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