“Ah,” said The Child.
“Yes and no, Prophet.”
“Why so undecided, Child?”
“Ah…” The Child sighed as she stretched her arms upward while lying on her lily pad.
“You want to tell me what you’re ahing, Child?”
“The sun is rising. It’s beautiful.”
“Indeed, it is Child. Indeed it is, but it’s time for you to eat your seaweed so we can get going.”
“Do we have to, Prophet? Can’t I just stay here and enjoy the sunrise?”
“Child, that sunrise showed up especially for you this morning. There will be other sunrises along the way.”
“Are you sure, Prophet?”
“But how do you know? What if I give up this sunrise and move out and there’re no other sunrises.”
The Prophet looked at the dogged Child. Her delightful ahs had turned to dreadful woes. His heart softened. The affinity that had grown between them had captured his heart. He glanced at her with compassion in his eyes, seeing the valley she did not see: the strength she would need to get through: the joy she would receive when she had overcome.
“What about your friend, Mr. Whale? Don’t you want to see him again?”
“I haven’t seen him since he went away skipping across the water,” The Child mumbled.
“Ah,” said The Prophet.
“Now you’re ahing, Prophet?”
“Look ahead, Child. What do you see?”
In the light of the sun, she saw an animal with a dorsal fin and black fluke shaped like a butterfly wading in the water.
“It’s him! Ah! Mr. Whale, here I am!”
“Ready to move out, Child?”
“Think so, Prophet.”
And as Mr. Whale approached, The Child, sitting on her lily pad, ate her seaweed and looked at the sun as The Prophet mapped out the difficulties ahead.