A traveler was walking through a desert on her journey home when she came across a merchant. Desiring some of the water he possessed (as she had run out the night before), she approached and inquired.
“How much for a gallon of your water, sir?”
“I offer you one of two things: water, in exchange for the crown you wear, or a diamond, for free.”
Taken aback, she hesitated. Who would offer a free diamond to a mere stranger?
“What is the catch, sir?” She looked around. “Are there robbers nearby to take from me both my crown and my life if I refuse the water and request the diamond?”
“No, friend. I am an open-handed giver of good things. What you ask for, you will receive as promised.”
“Then will you simply give me water?”
“My best things require an exchange, though you may perceive this as unfair. I am confident you would discover the water is worth the price and the diamond holds no more value than the sand around you.”
“Right, right.” She was both skeptical and shrewd. “I would like one of your diamonds. For with it, I could buy many gallons of water and keep my crown.”
“Very well.” The merchant removed from his pocket a large diamond and watched her eyes grow wide. “You will see me again.” He gave it to her, and she departed.
It glistened in her hand and brought her much pride. She admired it for many hours, even as the sun beat down on her neck and shoulders. How could this be?
Sometime later, the merchant appeared in the distance. How he had gotten ahead of her, she did not know. But, upon hearing him speak as she approached, she was glad.
“Greetings, traveler. I again offer you water or a diamond. Which do you desire?”
Her head hurt and she was quite thirsty, but, once again, she was overcome by the opportunity before her.
“May I have another diamond? For then, I would have one to purchase water and one to provide for my family when I return home.”
“As you have asked, here is another diamond.” The merchant dropped it into her hand, and it clinked against the other. “You will see me again.”
She smiled and went on her way, now the proud owner of two diamonds. Her mind raced with excitement, but her head ached.
The next day, she saw him again. It had now been a day and a half since she last drank. But, on impulse and before he could speak, she shouted, “May I have another diamond? For then, I would have three—one for water, one for my family, and one for the poor.”
“That is very noble of you.” He dropped the third diamond into her hand. “Please know this: you will see me only once more.”
“I look forward to it.” She departed again.
The afternoon came and went and she came upon him again.
“Weary, weary traveler, would you care for some water?”
“I would like,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, “one more diamond, please, sir.” She took a breath, “For then, I could buy water, provide for my family,” a breath, “give to the poor,” a breath, “and have something left over for myself.”
“Child, you will not see me again. Are you certain you do not need the water?”
“I want the water, yes. But as I’ve said before,” a breath, “I will buy much water when I arrive home.” She paused and regarded the water. “And I could not bear to part with my crown.”
His eyes grew so sad it made her want to weep, or maybe she was becoming delusional.
“As you wish.” He lifted her hand, as she had no strength, and placed the last diamond in her palm.
She thanked him for his generosity and departed, lips cracked and bleeding from both her smile and dehydration.
That night, she made camp and reflected on her good fortune. How many people received such an opportunity? How many people would have the willpower to say ‘no’ to their body to receive greater rewards? She shook the diamonds in her hand. This would be enough for years to come. She could hardly wait to get home.
When the sun rose the next day, the desert mercilessly stretched on. And soon enough, it was clear—there would be no getting home. In her drought-induced disorientation, she had, long ago, wandered off the path.
Grief hung off her head and chest, and she clung to her diamonds and crown. They were her only comfort in this parched, ever-shrinking world.
How lovely they are. How very, very much worth the cost.
…The cost? Were they not free?
Her breathing grew ragged, her heart slowed, and she watched in horror as the gorgeous stones and her crown transformed into dust.
Oh, how great a fool I am.
JustAnotherWillow 