Tiny peeked through the bedroom curtains. Mother-the-Sun was nowhere in sight. The morning sky was thin and wrinkled, and a grey veil of mist hung over Treetops.
‘Perhaps I should go back to bed,’ Tiny thought with a sigh. On days like these, the world felt too large and out of reach. Penny-dog had lost her favorite bone, Madame Orly had lost her smile, and Tiny felt caught in a maelstrom, powerless to change a thing.
Tiny dragged her heavy feet out of the house. She imagined she would take them for a quiet walk, but she found herself drifting towards her favourite thinking spot—the pine grove that skirted the Misty Ripple Meadow. As she entered the clearing, the needle strewn soil kissed her bare feet.
“Come, sit, stay,” coaxed the warm earth.
Tiny sat on a stone and watched the tall pines stretch into the brightening sky.
“Swoosh, shway, stay,” they whispered.
Her small body began to relax, and the clouds parted to reveal the sun’s shy smile.
“Everything will be ok,” beamed Mother-the-Sun.
Tiny nodded, and took a deep breath. Columns of gilded light broke through the bronze canopy, and gold leaves rained around her like falling coins. She felt as though she was in a cave filled with riches. There was only one place she had experienced this feeling before.
Finally she felt her heart-bird stir in her chest; it was time to move on. And so Tiny gave a silent prayer of thanks to the sun, the earth, the sky, and the trees, and headed to her second favorite thinking spot—the library.