Storybook Comfort

This is Digby Pancake. Someone told me recently that I couldn’t read. I wondered how in the world they knew this to be true. It’s not true. I’ve learned to read what I need to. When I need to.

You never know what someone else is capable of. And I don’t need others to know that I can read to be able to read.

And as we were walking early in the morning one day here in this Georgia place, I looked around. No one needed to tell me to have a good day. Because I was already having one. Other walkers around me seemed to not be sincerely reading the pages of the morning. They were walking, yes. But they weren’t listening to anything but their own negative thoughts and even on their phones. What were they missing? The pages being turned right before them. Birds singing. A sunflower in our path.

They were not listening to the creek.

They were not turning the pages of a good day. They were reading the same page they have read over and over and over again. And I wondered. Why wouldn’t persons find comfort in the storybook pages that are part of every day? Why do they continue to look at one page? Why can’t they get involved in the storybook that is life?

Girl Person said she used to love reading fairytales when she was little.

She said by reading those tales, it gave her hope that life was more magical than what it appeared to be. Why do persons not realize the magic and story of every day?

How each day is like a different page to read?

True. Sometimes life can be hard. Days can be sad. But not every paragraph is sad. There are words, sounds, sights to cheer you up. Don’t wait on someone to turn the page for you.