Amanda Weldon (0:01)

Hello. Welcome to Stories Podcast. I'm your host, Amanda Weldon. Today's story is a throwback episode. Tune in to hear one of our classic stories from the archive that you might have missed the first time around. We have Stories Podcast merch, available@storiespodcast.com shop. We're also on cameo for all of your personalized video message needs. And don't forget to follow us on Instagram Stories Podcast if you send us a drawing of your favorite scene or character, we'll share it on our feed. Now, here's a word from our sponsors. Check out the podcast Mysteries About True Histories Tune in each week as best friends Max and Molly are faced with their latest time traveling quest. It's up to them to use their math and logic skills to keep the troublesome trolls from causing chaos throughout space and time. Can they crack the code before time runs out? Join in on the fun every Thursday to find out. Follow Mysteries about True Histories on Apple Podcasts or wherever you find your podcasts. Thanks. Enjoy the episode. Keep it chill. Daffodil Maya's diary keep out April 7 Dear diary, this place is terrible and I hate it here. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I hate it three times. I hate it a hundred times. It's even worse than I thought it would be. I'd rather be living in the woods with a family of rabid skunks than be in this house. Okay, maybe that's a little dramatic. Let me start over. We moved in with Cliff this week. I know I should have been prepared. My friends Maddie and Rachel, they warned me over and over, but did I listen? Of course not. Then, after three very quick years, Cliff and Mom got married earlier this month. Once that was out of the way, it was always the plan to move into his house and, well, here we are. I guess I just thought it wouldn't happen. Or maybe just that it wouldn't happen so fast. Time is weird, isn't it? I was dreading having to leave the little apartment where mom and I lived together for the past 10 years. I was dreading it so bad that the days passed like a TV show in fast forward. When your dog sits on the remote and you can't get it out from under him. You're frustrated and your show is getting ruined, but you're not allowed to be mad because the dog just looks so happy to be on the couch with you. So upsetting. On the other hand, when you're really looking forward to something like, say, summer vacation starting and every day seems to drag on and on it feels like it'll never arrive. Like someone is pasting extra days onto the calendar. They're like, oh, that it's just the trimple of June. Everyone knows that June has an extra trimple tucked away in there. Yeah, yeah. Trimple isn't a real word. Since this is a new diary, I filled my old one again. I guess I should explain in case I ever get famous and someone reads these or something. I like to make up words. It started when I was just learning to write and didn't know any better. I thought making up words was the kind of thing any old person could do back then. I had words like throshel, which is what our old washer did when there were too many towels inside. Or there was priply, which is the word I use to describe the feeling of really having to use the bathroom. Don't worry, I grew out of that one. Anyway, I'm writing this in my new room at Cliff's house. It's nice enough, I guess. It's definitely bigger than my room at the apartment. And I got to paint it whatever color I wanted. I chose this cute, earthy pink that the paint store called happenstance. Which is just as made up a word as anything I've ever crommulated with the paint. I also got a new bed and some posters on the wall of some good artists and bands I like. I also got to put my vanity right in my room. Just like Maddy and Rach have at their houses. Which is cool, but still. All the pink walls and posters in the world wouldn't make me happy to be here. I used to write a new song practically every day in my last diary. But I just can't hear. It's like this place is just smothering my creativity. I don't know. Since I can remember, it's been just me and mom on our own. Sure, things were tough sometimes, but we always had each other. Cliff is nice and all, and I know mom loves him. But why did they have to go and get married? Couldn't they have just kept dating him? In this house, me and mom at the apartment? It's just not the same here. The air smells weird. The toilet's too high. The sink sprays funny. Worst of all, Cliff has been trying extra hard to make me feel at home. Guess what, Cliff? I'd feel at home if I was. I don't know, at home. He made me breakfast this morning. Sure, great. But he said the English muffin had cooks and nannies. And then laughed at his own joke. Cooks and Nannies. It's nooks and crannies, Cliff, and it's not even funny. I basically stormed out without eating. Ugh, I need to stop. I'm giving myself a pulp. That's another one I made up. A pulp is that thing you get before you cry where you can feel the tears all lump up in your throat and behind your eyes and in your brain. It's absolutely detrogable. I'll let you figure out what that one means. I give up writing tonight. No more diary. Definitely no new song. I'm gonna go read a while instead. Keep it chill, daffodil. Maya. April 12th. Finally, I found something good about Cliff's house. Her name is Good Lady Maple, and I spent the weekend gibraltzing her. I should clarify. Gibraltzing means exploring in a lazy way. And Good Lady Maple is a tree. She is what I named the honkin big maple in the corner of Cliff's backyard. Why did I name her that? I'm glad you asked. She's an elderly tree, tall and thick around the trunk with the kind of dignity you only see in old ladies. I was pretty sure she was a maple, so I brought Mom a leaf and she confirmed it. Our old apartment didn't have a yard. There was a park down the street that I loved. But this is nice, too. On the downside, there aren't any other people here. But on the upside, there aren't any other people here. That's a little confusing, but if you're like me, you'll get it. Sometimes I just want to be surrounded by people, even if I'm not hanging out with them and we're just sharing the same park. It's nice. You feel safe and warm and kind of cozy. Other times, though, I've had enough of people. I want to get a book or my diary and just hide away somewhere. Somewhere quiet and safe. Somewhere there's no one to bother me. Somewhere like Good Lady Maple. When I first went up in her branches, the wind blowing through sounded almost like music. And I was so close to being able to write a song again. So close. Like I said, she's in the back corner of Cliff's yard, just past a big dirt patch. Since she's so old, there's lots of good limbs for climbing and swinging. And halfway up, there's two limbs together that form a perfect seat. I settled up there and read my book for hours on Sunday. It was nice. Mom and Cliff even brought me my lunch out there. It was my favorite. Mom's tuna salad. Which is always scrumdingus. Of course, I still shared the crusts with the squirrels in the tree next door. You always gotta be cool to the neighbors. Keep it chilled. Daffodil. Maya, April 15th. Did I mention that I hate it here? Because I hate it here. I just got a talking to. Did you ever get a talking to? If you haven't let me explain. It's different than normal talking. With a talking to, you get pulled aside by someone. Mom in my case. And they speak in this weird whisper that bites off every word like you're mad at your own sentence. Ugh. All I did was put my feet up on Cliff's stupid table. I know, I know. He asked me not to, but whatever. It's just a table. He didn't even say anything to me. It was mom who pulled me aside and got all over me about being respectful in my new home. I didn't say anything to her because I didn't want to get in more trouble. But my home? I don't think so. This is Cliff's house. I'm just a Martian who happened to crash land here. At least that's what it feels like. Anyway, I got out of there as fast as I could. I'm writing this from Good Lady Maple. Now, up here where I sit, it feels like my own little world. The rustling leaves are my walls and these thick old limbs are my furniture. There's no mom and no Cliff and no anyone. That makes me think all the by yourself words are sad. Like lonely, alone, isolated, remote. They all sound so negative. I need a word for when you're alone but happy. Really, it's ridiculous. It doesn't already exist. So let me see. Alone but happy. I'm feeling sotant. Keep it chill. Daffodil. Maya. April 20th. For homework today, we have to write a poem. A poem? Normally, I'd be all over this. Well, I didn't really like poems until my mom pointed out that they're just songs without music. Obviously, I love writing songs, so that kind of gave me a window into poetry. Now when I read a good poem, I kinda sing it too. It really helps. Anyway, I've been having trouble writing poems or songs or whatever lately, so I thought I was gonna fail this assignment for sure, but that kind of gave me an idea. What if I wrote about what's giving me trouble? Well, once I had that idea, the song basically wrote itself. I guess I've been having a lot of feelings lately. Big surprise there. Anyway, I just finished for class. Turns out it's Pretty easy to rhyme when you don't mind a few made up words. You want to hear it? Okay this house is a boar. Please take me home. I miss the old rooms with Caribbean floors this house is begugs Please take me home. I want my old windows and strouple rugs Isn't it wild? The colors look so mild this house doesn't feel like home to me. My home was so preet. Please take me home. I feel like a Martian lost in ziplete My home was alive Please take me home. I wish I felt normal and cozified. Isn't it wild? I barely smile. This house doesn't feel like home to me. Isn't it wild? I am one spline child. This house doesn't feel like home to me. Now for a quick ad break. We'll be back with the rest of the story after this. If you'd like Stories Podcast and other favorite kid podcasts ad free subscribe to Wondery Kids on Apple Podcasts. Thanks. And now back to the story. Keep it chilled. Daffodil Maya April 22nd. I'm in my room, hiding under the covers. This place is the worst. I just want to go home. I want to go to my real home. My apartment. I want to stop crying. This is all so stupid. Ugh. Okay, get it together, Maya. You're a strong, beautiful, hilarious, talented girl. Come on now. Okay, so basically Cliff hates me. I went out back to go sit in the Good Lady Maple and the ground under her was all disturbed. When I got closer, I saw Cliff had buried some hard flagstone all around the tree. What, does he want me to fall and crack my head? I guess climbing his tree is even worse than putting my feet up on the table. What's next? Some kind of pit and spikes? Or maybe a crocodile filled moat? I don't know what, but it's definitely not welcoming and I'm feeling completely and utterly excommunated by the whole situation. In case you're wondering, that's a word I just made up for angry and sad and insulted all at once. It's a big feeling. So big it feels like it might burst right out of my chest. Whatever. I live here now and he wasn't going to scare me off that easy. I picked my way over the rocks and climbed up Good Lady Maple. Anyway, I started to read my book, but I was so be stupid that I just gave up and went inside after only an hour. And here I am writing this entry. I'm trying with Cliff, but just when he seems okay, he goes and changes my only favorite spot. I'm just over it. They called me for dinner and I told them I wasn't hungry. I'm not either. I'm too full of feelings to eat anything. Does that make sense? If you have feelings like I do, you'll get it. Keep it chill. Daffodil Maya Apr 25 so maybe I've been too hard on Cliff. Maybe he's great. I woke up this morning to thunder. That was okay at first because it's Saturday, no school or anywhere to be when I don't have to go outside. I find thunderstorms relaxing, the raging wind, the blasting thunder and lightning, the constant tip tap topping of the rain. I actually snuggled in deeper, wrapping myself up in the blankets like a baby. Then I remembered I had left my book in Good Lady Maple. I pictured it out there, getting soaked in the rain and blown around by the wind. I imagined it stinky and scorched from lightning blasts. I would never know how it ended. I threw on random clothes in the dark. I probably looked like a weirdo, but I didn't even care. I just needed to run back to the corner of the yard and get that book before it was completely ruined. What's the rush? Mom said to me as I ran through the kitchen. She was dripping wet, just in from the rain herself. Cliff was at the stove, something sizzling in front of him. Slow down and have a bite, kiddo, he said. Left my book outside. Gotta get it, I said. It came out fast, like one great big word. I barely even slowed down to pull my boots on. I ran off the back patio and when I hit the grass it was so wet my feet shot out from under me and I fell right on my butt. But I got up and kept going, and when I got to the tree I basically fainted at how silly I'd been. The rain fell hard and the dirt around the tree had filled with water. Of course, there was no grass and nowhere for it to go. It was basically a small pond. There was no way to get up into the Good Lady Maple except for the stones Cliff had laid. I had thought they were random before, but in that pouring rain Cliff's careful design was obvious. It was a path, a winding path of stone islands in a mud puddle sea, each one placed perfectly within reach of the next. I felt a pulp in my throat. Cliff had done this for me. I had been so mad at the silly rocks, and they were just so perfect. I needed a word, a new word, a sudden realization that something you didn't like is actually wonderful, useful, and good. Let's see you Tiffany with the stones. I had a EU Tiffany soaking wet now. I crossed from stone to stone and then climbed up into my tree. Luckily, her heavy leaves had kept off most of the water. I sat for a long minute, letting the wind blow around me and the rain roll down my face. Thanks, good lady Maple, I whispered to her. Enjoy the rain. I tucked the book under my hoodie and ran back inside. When I came in the back door, I could hear laughing in the kitchen. I shrugged off my outer layer of wet clothes and then followed the laughter and the smell of crisping bacon. It was mom who was laughing, her smile wide and honest. It was the kind of happy smile you can't fake. She was laughing at Cliff, who had served her breakfast and was toweling off her hair as she ate. You really don't have to cook, she said, still smiling. And you didn't have to run to the store. But these are the terrible sacrifices we make for love. Mom laughed again and leaned back against him. He paused, drying her hair long enough to give her a hug. Both of them were still smiling and still laughing. Stones in water, I thought suddenly, looking at Cliff. There in the kitchen doorway, I had my second eutiphone of the day. He really loves her, and he makes her happy. I started smiling for the first time in what felt like weeks. Mom took a sip of her coffee and then saw me standing there. You get your book? Mom asked me. I held it up with a smile and then set it on the table. Can I get you something to eat? Your mom devoured all the bacon, but I can do some more. Mom elbowed him playfully in the gut. Just a couple English muffins would be great, I said. Two English muffins coming up. Yes, please, I said, taking a seat. They both smiled at me, and for the first time I let myself feel at home. It felt good for a second. Then I just. I don't know. All I could think of was how terrible I'd been to Cliff. He had been nice to me, and I'd just been a jerk, too upset about moving to even think about anyone else. But it was never too late. I decided then that I'm gonna be nicer. If someone's kind to me, I should at least be kind back. But I wasn't sure how to do it. Hey, Cliff, I said. How about some jelly for those cooks and nannies? There was a pause, and then mom and Cliff laughed. And then I was laughing too. It felt good. It just felt really good. Keep It Chill Daffodil Maya the End Today's story Keep It Chill Daffodil was written for you by Daniel Hines and performed for your by me, Amanda Weldon with a song by us both. If you would like to support Stories podcast, you can leave us a five star review on itunes. 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