What stories should I spin for you little friend. I know nothing. The sun shines and the rain falls and the grass grows, and I know nothing.
I could not tell you of adventure or daring acts of heroism. I couldn’t tell you of the unfolding of history, of war or devastation, or silent screams in the night. I couldn’t tell you any of this. There are those who elicit laughs from others for a living- bleeding hearts that can make a room full boil over with mirth. What do I tell you of them?
What do I tell you of charismatic horsemen who lead an army into battle? Who take living, breathing men through snow and ice and hunger and thirst, incite them to willingly leave behind warm hearths and the smiles of loved ones for a dream? What do I tell you of dreams. What do I tell you of dreams of young minds just starting out into the world. What do I tell you of tragedy and those wonderful, insane, mad emotions we call love and hate? Have you ever stopped by the graveyard to look and wonder for a moment- have you ever stopped to count the number of broken hearts under those worn and weathered gravestones? Have you pondered what stories lie crumbling to dust beneath your feet as you tiptoe through?
I have no stories for you little friend. I cannot tell you how the birds sing at dawn because I have never done it. I cannot tell you how the water falls from the sky to hard earth, and runs off to mingle with rivers and streams and oceans. I cannot tell you whether it remembers that journey or whether it is then the raindrop or the ocean or just plain salt water. I have never travelled that path and I do not know. How can I tell you such a story?
I want to show you. I want to show you the little rainbows in the water reflecting the sunlight, and the darting fish, and leaves fluttering in the wind. I want to show you the shapes in the clouds and lie back as we watch them change minute after minute after minute, as our eyes mirror their every move. I want to show you quiet places where magic hides from the everyday madness- behind trees and under rosebushes, or under shady eaves on warm summer afternoons. I want to show you everything. And then I want you to make your own stories.