i call them puti and itim, two duwendes that guard our garden since i was a kid. i don’t know why they still guard our garden—what’s left of it. it’s nothing special. not anymore.

i remember first seeing them when i was 7 years old. itim was playing a prank on puti. i thought it was hilarious, until puti chastised me. he said it was impolite to laugh at other people’s misfortunes. and to sneak up on duwendes like them. i didn’t know what a duwende was. back then.

itim and puti became my imaginary friends. at least, that’s what my parents called them. itim with his pranks, and puti with his lectures. they were a perfect pair. and we were all the same height, so that was a plus. i was always the smallest at school. no one made fun of my height when i’m with itim or puti. i was one of them.

our garden was the envy of the neighborhood back then. before my father decided he wanted a large fish pond. a koi pond. none of the kois ever lasted more than two months. i don’t know if my father is a lousy fish owner, or if itim has something to do with it. itim doesn’t like fish.

nowadays, our garden is made up of three potted plants. i rarely see puti anymore, but itim still shows up from time to time. he’s less than half my size now. but he’s still as mischievous as ever.

we don’t get to hang out anymore, though. during the last time i saw itim, he told me he would be leaving soon too. because we don’t need him anymore. just like we stopped needing puti when i grew up. itim looked sad. i told him i’ll always need him.

i don’t know if i meant it at the time. itim just smiled at me sadly.

i sit now in front of our three potted plants. waiting for itim or puti to come talk to me. it’s been a couple of days now, still no duwende has shown up.

but just in case: goodbye, itim. goodbye, puti.