Stories. They are what connects us. what binds us.
Tonight I was telling my little boy a story at bedtime. I hope to turn some of our bedtime tales into written stories, and one day a children's book. Here is little bit about our story.
We are getting ready for a great adventure. A road trip. An act of bravery with three small children. We plan to head north from San Francisco and visit one of the great natural wonders of the world: the redwood forest. I told Andy that they are the oldest living creatures in the world.
"They have seen more beautiful days than we can begin to imagine," I told him. " They forget the days but mark the years with a ring."
"They can see?" he asked.
"Well, no."
He stared back at me plainly. "Can the walk?"
"They don't walk." I began to rethink my use of the word "creature" and though living "thing" would have been a better choice. "But there are lots of little living creatures that make them their home."
"They are like people," I added. "The big trees stand in a grove, a group. They start as a seed and begin to grow. but instead of reaching downward, they reach out, the great redwoods spread their roots towards the other trees and hold each other up. They hold hands. They are a family."
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