Comfort in the Stories We Tell

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All was dark; all was not bright. But in the darkness sat a boy named Walter, and his pet alligator named Frank.

“How long have we been sitting here?” Questioned Walter into the void. He knew Frank was somewhere near him.

A low rumbly growl came from nearby, “A long time, Walter.”

“Frank, why is your breath so bad?”

“I haven’t been able to brush my teeth since the lights went out.”

“Why do you think the stories stopped?”

“I think Wyatt’s dad has forgotten about us.”

For a period of time, my bedtime routine with Wyatt included stories about Walter and Frank. Until one day… those stories stopped. I’m not sure why I quit telling of their adventures with their mighty robot. Or why I quit expanding the weirder aspects of their universe, with characters such as the ninja dolphins.

All of that changed the other night, as I put Wyatt to bed. I pulled Walter and Frank from the darkness. Starting the story just as I did above.

  • Turning the creative lights on once more.
  • Firing up the mighty robot.
  • Adventuring.
  • And, as always, concluding with milk and cookies provided by Walter’s mom.

There is comfort in the stories we tell. And there is no need to leave anyone in the dark, most of all, Walter and Frank.

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