Today, I walked into a storybook.
The excursion was unplanned. My aim was to hide away in the library, both to study and to enter silence. Today is defining dreary. Rainfall pours at a slight tilt and even when it ceases, everything is in a constant state of wet. The weather brings out the lonely side of life. So when I passed by the warmly lit art gallery, I was drawn in.
The gallery featured a children’s book “The Boy, The Kite, and The Wind.” Each page of the book featured its own frame. I walked inside the gallery and entered into the story.
I love the simplicity and power of children’s books. How such power is spoken in the tattered, lost kite. The strong hand of the father resting on the son’s shoulder. The illustrator even caught the gleam in the little boy’s eye that defines youthfulness and hope.
The gallery forced me to pause. Though I am entering adulthood, I am still a child. As the father found meaning in the lost kite and the strong wind, Abba interweaves these powerful symbols in our daily lives.
I wonder where my kite is today and if I will reflect on the power of the invisible wind.
Maybe today is not so lonely.