Father, are you ok?” the little boy asked as they stood at the top of a great hill overlooking the town far below. The father looked down at his son and forced a smile.
“Of course I am, son,” he lied.
“You don’t look ok,” his daughter blurted out as she spun cartwheels in the cool grass.
“Really?” the father replied, glancing at his wife whose own eyes told him they were right. “What do I look like?”
His children held his hands. “You look sad,” his daughter said.
The father’s heart sank. He didn’t want them to see it. He never wanted them to see it. Not yet, at least.
“I look sad?” he gasped in mock surprise and tickled his children. Their giggles lit up the world. His son pulled away with a laugh and ran around a giant elm tree as the father chased behind. Father monster roared after his children until he had them both in his grasp, their laughter filling the air. He kissed the top of their heads and gave a soft wink to his wife.
“No dad,” his son broke the silence of the moment. “You do look sad, though.”
“Well what do you think I should do about that?” father asked.
“We can tell you a story!” his daughter replied. “You always tell us stories when we are sad.”
“Yeah! A story!” the son agreed.
“A story?” father said with pretend skepticism. “Well alright, you can try.”
His children led him to a large rock in front of the tree and sat him down. It was a wonderful story rock, he thought, sitting in front of a beautiful tree at the top of a beautiful hill. His wife sat down beside him and gave a gentle squeeze to his hand. The children stood at the top of the hill and began. They took turns telling their story, seamlessly moving together their words and ideas, building off each other throughout, acting out the scenes they created. It was truly magnificent to see.
“Once upon a time there was a town. It was filled with all sorts of people. Happy people, angry people, silly people, and scary people. There were parades and parties everywhere. Most of the time they would get along but sometimes they would fight. And when they would fight it seemed like they would never stop. They would yell and argue and slam doors and break things. Other people would try to stop them from fighting and bring them together. But it never seemed to work for long. Eventually the people would just ignore each other. Then one day a giant dragon attacked the town. Everyone was scared and hid. But the dragon wouldn’t go away. It began to burn down their homes and take their food. The dragon was unstoppable. Or so it thought. The people of the town stopped hiding. They burst out of their doors and yelled at the dragon. They told it to go away. Even the people who had been fighting stood side by side and yelled at the dragon. The dragon didn’t know what to do. There were so many people yelling at it to go away.”
The father felt a tear of joy fall from his eye as he watched his daughter, pretending to be the brave townspeople, stand strong in front of the evil dragon played by her brother. Her matted, fiery hair danced in the wind as she cartwheeled around the dragon until he flew away. The children stood next to each other at the top of the hill, smiles beaming from their faces.
“The people of the town realized they needed to work together to beat the dragon. They stopped fighting and helped each other. The dragon never returned. The end.”
The children took a glorious bow and the mother and father cheered them wildly. “Bravo!” the mother yelled.
“Encore!” cried the father and hugged his children tight.
“See?” the daughter said, “You don’t look sad anymore. The story fixed you!”
The father kissed his daughter on the forehead. “It certainly did,” he smiled. “Thank you both so much.”
The father looked out to the town below and back at his wife who smiled. “And now,” he said. “We should go.”
“Do you remember the plan?” the mother asked. Her children nodded. “Only what we came for and nothing else?” They nodded again.
Together they began to walk down the hill towards the empty town below. The father reached into his backpack and pulled a handful of latex gloves from inside, handing them out to his family.
“Remember,” he said as he put on the gloves. “Gloves on. Touch nothing except what we came for. And do not remove your masks.”
He watched as his children pulled on their gloves and took their masks from their bags. He gave one last wink to his wife and led them down the hill.
