Pipet first heard about it in early July when she was still wearing her yellow blossom dress. Word came down the pumpkin vine that they were not all destined for the cannery. There was nothing shameful or scary about going to the cannery, of course. A pumpkin's life just lasts one season, and it has to end some way. Ending up in a pie spiced with cinnamon and cloves was what most little girl pumpkins expected, and it was sure better than withering on the vine or fading away after one day like the boy pumpkin blossoms.
Still, Pipet liked to think there was something more exciting to life than just growing round and fat in a pumpkin patch. It was a bumblebee that brought the news. Pipet was a little afraid when the bee first came to her as he buzzed from one blossom to the next. It turned out he was harmless, though, and he did bring her hope that there was something exciting in store for the very best pumpkins each autumn.
"Only the most perfectly shaped pumpkins are chosen to become Jack-O-lanterns," he told her. "It's a great honor. They get to celebrate Halloween with the children after the old man with the pipe gives them a face. A light shines out through their smiles. I've seen it lots of times. They all look like they are having a great time."
All of the girls on the vine started talking about it. Some like Pipet said they wanted to be a Jack-O-lantern, even though the bee had said, "just a few are chosen." But it was just a dream --not something they better pin their hopes on.
"Be practical," one of them warned Pipet. "There are hundreds of us. You better make peace with the idea that you will be going in a can."
"Someone will be chosen. It might as well be you," the bee told her. "Dream big."
Pipet decided to be one of the perfect few who would be Jack-O-lanterns. She soaked up all the moisture she could when the rains came, and she tried her best to let the sun bathe her smooth skin, even though a big leaf was forever getting in the way. When the old man with the pipe came to look over the crop every few days, Pipet tried to catch his attention, but he didn't even see her under all the green. She kept drinking and growing though, and kept hoping that when October came, she would be pretty enough to be chosen.
August came and went, and Pipet was glad for the leaf when some of the girls got bad sunburns. As September progressed, she grew fat and round and anxious. It wasn't time yet, though. They would have to turn orange before they would be ready. A pumpkin that wasn't orange didn't stand a chance of being a Jack-O-lantern, or a pie for that matter.
One by one her sisters began to show a little color, but Pipet stayed green until well into October, then she began to blush into the prettiest orange. But the old man never saw her when he came to the patch. She began to worry that she would never be noticed, and maybe even be one of those pumpkins who wither away without anyone ever seeing her.
"Don't worry," her sister Tipet said. "When the canners come, they will notice you for sure." It didn't make Pipet feel any better, though. She had her heart set on being a Jack-O-lantern.
"Don't listen to her," the bee said. "I'm betting on you."
And why not? Pipet was shaped perfectly and had no burnt spots or blemishes. She was as nearly perfect as a pumpkin can get, even if no one had seen her but the bees and her sisters.
The day finally came. The old man with the pipe and his grandson came to the patch and Pipet heard the boy say, "How many pumpkins do we get to choose for Jack-O-lanterns, Grandpa?"
"Well, let's see," the old man said smiling. "Hazel wants three for Halloween decorations for the party, and one for the porch. We want the best one for the front porch. That's the one all the trick-or-treaters will see."
Pipet strained to be seen as they made their way toward her.
"Here's a nice one," the old man said as he cut the stem of a neighbor and lifted her up to his shoulder. They walked past Pipet, though, without even seeing her. Two more pumpkins were chosen, including her sister Tipet. But poor Pipet was overlooked again.
"I don't see any others that are shaped well enough," Grandpa said looking around the patch. "Maybe three are enough."
Just then a bumblebee got their attention and landed on something half hidden under a big green leaf. The bee buzzed again and again until the boy pointed at him and said, "Look Grandpa. That bee is talking to us."
That did it. They both walked over to get a better look and spotted Pipet. "Hey, Grandpa," said the little boy. "This pumpkin looks like a nice round one."
Pipet smiled inside as the old man with the pipe said, "Why that's perfect. That is the porch Jack-O-lantern for sure."
Pipet felt warm all over as the man cut her loose from the vine and put her into the child's waiting arms. "Come on, Johnny," he said. "Lets go carve their faces." As Pipet bounced along with the child hugging her firmly, she thought about the flickering light that would be shinning through her smile as she greeted the trick-or-treaters that evening. Dreams do come true, she was thinking.
THE END
I wrote the piece above when the Norman Rockwell illustration was given as a daily prompt in my freewriting group. Every day we must write something using the prompt given.