Once, in a time not unlike the one we’re in right now, there lived a chipmunk. His name was Graph, and Graph was a great little guy, full of spunk and energy. He loved to laugh and frolic with his fellow chipmunks. He had so many chipmunk friends; every one seemed to like him and pine for his company. Graph loved life and life loved him.
He went to Gathering School and then on to higher levels of learning where he was taught advanced methods of larder and scatter hoarding, the greatest types of fungi and truffles and even new methods of scurrying and burrowing. He learned so much that Graph became symbiotic with the seeds and trees of the forest.
Moving on, as chipmunks often do from time to time, Graph built several burrows in various different places, and along the way he introduced himself to the animals and insects around him. He met badgers, bumble bees and even became friends with a bear, who, despite his size, was quite sensitive. One time, during a stroll by the creek, Bear almost sat on little Graph; the poor large bear, extremely guilty at what almost happened, wept like an upset child. Seeing a bear weep and fuss was a bit strange to the tiny chipmunk, but Graph loved his friends and his friends loved him. So much so they always wanted him around and little Graph loved that. After all, who doesn't like to feel wanted?
As seasons passed the moon began to call on all animals to prepare for the coming winter. Graph was so occupied with the creatures around him that he didn’t realize he needed to prepare for the impending cold. It wasn’t until he saw a lonely worm squirm away in defense at the sight of Graph that he knew something was a bit off kilter.
"Don’t eat me!” The worm was tinier than usual so his voice shook with fright.
“What on earth do you mean?”
“What do you mean?” The worm was confused and in a slight panic.
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“What I mean is...didn’t you hear the moon? The cold air is coming!” said the worm, backing away ever so slightly. “I must go away from you. You are going to eat me.”
Graph was confused, he never heard the moon, he didn’t even hunger for the taste of a nice squishy worm, which usually satisfied any chipmunk’s taste buds. “The moon called? It did?”
“Oh, yes, and –" Just then a bird swooped down and, almost catching Graph with his talons, found future sustenance in the worm. “See what I mean!” His voice trailed off into the sky.
“Geez,” said Graph, “I had no idea. What have I been doing?!” With that, the tiny chipmunk rushed around the forest hoarding what he could for the winter. Hustling about from tree to tree, from one part of the forest to another, he recalled several memories when fellow chipmunks would visit his burrows, he remembered the fond gatherings he used to host, even an annual truffle-hunt he brilliantly organized that somehow disappeared off his radar.
Autumn was long and arduous for the little chipmunk, but that can usually happen when one is trying to catch up on time that was lost. It wasn’t until he was in his sleeping quarters that Graph realized what had happened; it was like a violent alarm that suddenly went off in his head. Immediately he retrieved a scrap book from a shelf and began flipping through its pages
He saw all kinds of pictures while fragments and objects of memories tumbled out on his lap; everything he ever did started to reveal itself as if it had just happened. There was a picture of a yellow honey comb, a huge tree and a honey covered chipmunk; he had traveled with Bumble Bee from hive to hive to taste various types of honey. A piece of dried seaweed stuck itself onto a page; he went fishing with Bear. A photo of two friends sleeping under a weeping willow; he sprawled in the summer shade with Bob Cat. There were even wood shavings inside an envelope; he spent time with Woodpecker as she built her nest. Though he had a marvelous time with everyone doing these activities, he lost track of who he was and of the things he liked to do, even the things he needed to do. Graph lost track of what it was to be a chipmunk.
As he sat in his favorite chair, listening to the wind and winter gathering all around him, Graph reflected on the new friends he found and the old friends he had forgotten. He had no business frolicking with bobcats, hunting with bears, tasting honey or even visiting with a woodpecker. It was a fact to Graph that a great many of his friends usually want to eat him not eat with him. What he needed to do was chipmunk things, reconnect with his forgotten chipmunk friends and participate in chipmunk adventures. Graph began to long for the good times he had shared with his chipmunk friends. Graph, in that moment, started to miss his chipmunk life. A tear built up, fell out of his eyes and landed on his hand.
“I will never forget these friends,” he said, sniffling back some tears and rubbing his hands across the scrapbook, “but I am a chipmunk. I want to create my own life to share with everyone.” It was in that instance, like a chill crawling over his body, Graph realized it was time to be a chipmunk once again.
Replacing the scrapbook back on the shelf, Graph headed to his sleeping quarters; head high, stride more confident, and a heart filled with excitement. As his eyes closed and his body settled into a comfortable position he fell into a long deep winter sleep knowing that when he woke spring would be the start of something new.
