Little Na and the Umbrella That Shared the Rain

Little Na and the Umbrella That Shared the Rain

At the end of the road leading into White Cloud Village stood a blue-tiled-roof house where Little Na lived with her mother and Mun the cat. Na was a lively little girl who loved observing everything around her. She knew that the star-fruit tree in front of the house usually blossomed at the beginning of summer, which sparrows often perched on the fence, and that the seashell wind chime would ring whenever the wind blew in from the fields.

Na also had an object she treasured dearly. It was a yellow umbrella her grandmother had given her for her birthday. The canopy was covered with round blue spots that looked like tiny raindrops. Her grandmother had said, “This umbrella is not only for keeping off the rain. When needed, it can also shelter a friend.”

Na smiled when she heard that, but she did not yet fully understand her grandmother’s words. How could a small umbrella shelter many people? Even so, she always put it away carefully beside the bookshelf. Whenever dark clouds gathered, Na would check that the handle was sturdy and the fabric was not torn before she felt comfortable taking it with her.

The Rain Comes Unexpectedly

One weekend afternoon, Mother asked Na to take a basket of cakes to Aunt Hanh’s house on the other side of the fields. Before she left, Mother looked up at the sky and said, “Remember to come home early. The clouds look rather heavy today; it may rain.”

Na took the yellow umbrella, put the basket of cakes into a cloth bag, and happily stepped out of the house. At first, the road was still bright. The grasses along the roadside swayed, and a few yellow butterflies flew low over the wildflower bushes. As she walked, Na counted the white stones lining the path. She had counted to the seventeenth when she heard a deep rumble of thunder in the distance.

The wind grew stronger. Gray clouds slowly covered the sky. Then one drop of water fell on Na’s forehead, followed by two drops, then three. In just a moment, rain came pouring down over the fields.

Na quickly opened the yellow umbrella. The canopy sprang up, shielding her from the raindrops falling thickly like a white curtain. She hugged the basket of cakes tightly and hurried toward the large banyan tree in the middle of the road. Aunt Hanh’s house was still quite far from there, but Na thought that all she had to do was walk quickly.

Suddenly, she heard someone call:

“Na, wait for me!”

When she turned around, Na saw Ti running from the edge of the rice field. He was clutching a large bundle of vegetables to his chest, while the only thing covering his head was a conical hat that had been bent out of shape by the wind. Rainwater streamed down Ti’s face, making him rub his eyes repeatedly.

“I have to take these vegetables home to my mother,” Ti said, panting. “But the road is too slippery, and I can’t see clearly.”

Na looked at the umbrella in her hand and then at Ti’s bundle of vegetables. The umbrella was just wide enough for one person. If they walked together, both their shoulders would get wet, and the cakes might be ruined by the rain.

Na suddenly remembered her grandmother’s words: “When needed, it can also shelter a friend.”

She tilted the umbrella toward Ti. “Come with me. We’ll just walk slowly.”

Ti looked surprised. “What about you?”

“I’m holding the umbrella. Besides, it’s easier for two people to walk together than for one person to walk alone.”

The two friends pressed close beneath the yellow umbrella. The small umbrella could not cover them completely, but Na kept tilting it toward Ti, while Ti carefully held the basket of cakes close to himself so they would not get wet. After a while, they reached the banyan tree.

Friends Beneath the Banyan Tree

Under the banyan tree, Na and Ti saw a small hedgehog trembling. The hedgehog was trying to hold a lotus leaf over his head, but the wind had blown half of it away. Beside him was a basket of wild mushrooms lying on its side, with the round mushrooms rolling into the mud.

“Are you hurt, Mr. Hedgehog?” Na asked.

“I’m fine,” the hedgehog replied sadly. “But if these mushrooms get soaked, I’ll have nothing to take home to the little ones.”

Ti put the bundle of vegetables down by the tree and bent over to pick up the mushrooms one by one. Na held the umbrella with one hand and helped the hedgehog gather the mushrooms with the other. The rain was still falling heavily. Before long, a large patch of Na’s back was wet because the umbrella had to be tilted toward the hedgehog.

“You two go on ahead,” said the hedgehog. “I can sit here and wait for the rain to ease.”

Na shook her head. “If you sit here too long, you’ll get cold. Let’s go back to the village together.”

The three of them set off. Ti carried the bundle of vegetables, the hedgehog hugged the basket of mushrooms, and Na held the yellow umbrella. The road was muddier than before. Every step made a squelching sound. The umbrella grew heavier and heavier as rainwater collected on its fabric.

After walking some distance, they came across two little rabbits huddled beneath a bush. One rabbit was holding a pair of cloth shoes, while the other hugged a small wooden box.

“What are you two doing here?” Ti asked.

“We’re looking for our mother,” replied the rabbit with the drooping ears. “But the rain has made the stream rise, and we don’t dare cross it.”

There really was a small stream ahead. On ordinary days, the water only reached ankle-deep. But after the rain, the water had turned murky and was flowing more quickly. A large branch had fallen across the wooden bridge over the stream.

Na looked at the bridge, then at the sky. If they waited for an adult to arrive, the rabbits might have to stand in the rain for a very long time. Suddenly, she thought of an idea.

“Ti, can you help me pull the branch aside? Mr. Hedgehog, could you use those vines to tie the handrail back together? And you two rabbits, walk close to the middle of the bridge and don’t run.”

Everyone got to work. Ti pulled the branch with both hands. The hedgehog threaded vines through the loose wooden slats. Na stood beside them holding the umbrella, sometimes sheltering one person and sometimes another. The two rabbits were no longer as frightened as before. They held hands and slowly crossed the bridge.

When everyone had reached the other bank, a joyful call rang out from the bamboo grove. A mother rabbit ran over and threw her arms around her two babies. She thanked the friends and invited everyone to stop at the nearby house to dry their clothes.

The Umbrella Was No Longer Small

Na suddenly remembered her mother’s basket of cakes. She opened the cloth bag to check and saw that a few of the cakes were slightly damp, but they were still intact. The mother rabbit brought a dry towel to wipe Na, Ti, and the hedgehog. The two little rabbits sat around the yellow umbrella, curiously looking at the blue spots on its canopy.

“Your umbrella is so pretty,” said one rabbit.

Na smiled. “My grandmother gave it to me.”

“It has sheltered so many people,” said the other rabbit.

Na looked at the umbrella. Mud clung to its canopy, one of its ribs was slightly bent, and its handle was ice-cold from the water. It was no longer as new as it had been at home. Yet in Na’s heart, the umbrella seemed much wider than before. It had sheltered Ti, helped the hedgehog keep his basket of mushrooms dry, helped her friends cross the bridge, and led the two rabbits to their mother.

When the rain eased, Na and Ti continued on to Aunt Hanh’s house. Aunt Hanh had been waiting anxiously under the eaves because the rain had lasted so long. When she heard Na’s story, she did not scold the two friends for being late. She simply took a towel and dried Na’s hair, then divided the slightly damp cakes into small portions so everyone could eat together.

On the way home, the clouds gradually cleared. The evening light shone on the puddles, making the road glitter as though it were covered with many little pieces of mirror. Ti carried the empty cake basket, while Na held the folded yellow umbrella.

“Your umbrella worked really hard today,” Ti said.

Na nodded. “But I think it was happy.”

“Can an umbrella be happy too?”

“Maybe it isn’t the umbrella that’s happy,” Na replied. “It’s the person holding it who feels happy when they know they can help someone.”

Grandmother’s Gift

When Na got home, she told her mother everything that had happened. Mother looked at the bent rib of the umbrella and gently fixed it. That evening, Grandmother came to visit. When she heard Na mention her advice, she smiled and said:

“Do you understand now? Sheltering a friend does not necessarily mean doing something great. Sometimes it simply means tilting the umbrella a little farther, waiting for someone to walk with you, or reaching out to help them pick up the things they have dropped.”

Na sat beside her grandmother and quietly stroked the blue spots on the umbrella. She understood that kindness did not make the umbrella lighter, the road less slippery, or the rain stop immediately. But kindness made the people walking in the rain no longer feel that they were alone.

From that day on, whenever the sky threatened rain, Na always took the yellow umbrella with her. Some days, she used it to shelter a lost kitten. Some days, she stood at the school gate waiting for a friend who had forgotten a raincoat. And sometimes no one needed her help at all, yet Na still walked beside her mother with the umbrella, listening to the sound of rain falling on its fabric canopy.

The yellow umbrella gradually acquired a few scratches, and one of its ribs was replaced, but the blue spots still shone against the warm yellow background. Whenever Na saw it, she remembered that no matter how small a good deed might be, it could open up a safer path for someone else.

In White Cloud Village, people continued to pass along the story of the little girl and the umbrella that shared the rain. But Na did not think she had done anything special. She had simply followed what her grandmother taught her: when you can help someone stay a little drier, tilt the umbrella toward them.