A mysterious person came into my kitchen the other day, handed me a pretty-smelling little sachet, and gave me this note:
"I am a weary traveler, and I don't talk. I am very poor, and that is the only gift I have. Please give me a gift, ma'am."
I handed the traveler a silver coin, and she left.
A while later, she came back with another note:
"I have finished my journey, but I am wounded. Rich people scratched and hit me. Please care for me. By the way, I am a great listener. My name is Listener." I tucked the wounded traveler on the couch, wrapped her wounded arm, and gave her a quilt, a book, and some Smarties ("medicine").
I love the journeys on which my kids' wonderful imaginations take us!