Once upon a time there were a little girl called Go, and a little boy called Slow. Upon the time that we’re talking about, both were factually little. Go and Slow were soul mates, made to end together, but sadly born apart.
Go grew up quietly, reading and pondering and wishing for more. She listened to music and wrote things down. Kept rabbits and things and stared at their fur.
Slow grew up loudly indeed, running and laughing and making himself heard. He listened to music but didn’t write things down. Kept real things to himself and stared at the ceiling.
Sometimes, when the grass is just right, a little wave of love passes underfoot, and carries two souls towards one another. Came such a day.
The sun shone on Go’s kind heart, and the wind blew on Slow’s thirst for life. Each were carried by a song in their chest, and puppy dogs were present. Young faces found themselves facing each other, mouths telling things like, ‘I dream,’ and ‘I know.’
The pair shared laughs and tears and hugs, their hands passed gifts between. Wild horses were powerless here.
Sometimes again, when the trees are restless, a little something comes into play. A little wave of something seeps into a head, and changes a little life.
Go got to thinking. A dangerous thing. She pondered more than ever, a little too far perhaps. Taking everything in and trying to keep it, her head and heart filled quickly. The world became too much for her little life, and she decided to take it elsewhere.
Slow, at this time, was taking little and lots in, waking in waves and playing life’s tune lazily, missing the notes that might make it too much.
Slow let Go go, she packed her bags, and ran away to Heaven.
Slow stayed and did things for a while, and smiled every now and then. His hand felt little, but his heart stayed big.
One day he got to, not thinking, but feeling. His hand took over his head. ‘You’re just little,’ it said, ‘I know,’ he replied, and he stroked his furry face – for Slow was not now so little. It made him think of rabbits.
He listened to music, one song in fact, for a little time, and then a long time. His hand did some thinking, some yearning, some packing. Slow made his way to Heaven.
One little face turned to see Slow come, and Go have him a smile.
‘I dream,’ he said.
‘I know,’ said she.
Little hands held once more, and forever.