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This morning, when I brought my nine year old daughter to school, we had one of those lovely philosophical conversations where wisdom and silliness shake hands.
Daughter: “Mommy, you know, the sun, she is very sad.”
Me: “She is? But why?”
Daughter: “Well, no-one can look her straight in the eyes. She is too radiant.”
Me: “True, but aren’t her rays cherised by all and sunder? Without them, life as we know it would be lost. Doesn’t the sun feel happy about what she means to us?”
Daughter: “She does, but if she is like me, she will want more than just touch the people and the animals and the trees and the grass. If she is like me, she wants them to look at her and wink and make jokes. She’s so lovely, you know?”
Me: “I know. And you know why I know? Because I feel her warmth. She tickles me, ever so softly, every time she’s out and I’m out.”
Daughter: “Still, she’s sad.”
Me: “Perhaps we should invite her to a game of charades. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Daughter: “I don’t think the sun plays games like that… she has no hands!”
(This reminded me of “Games”, a white-on-black drawing I did a while ago. Today, I added this original piece to my store.)