The rest of the story

“Tell me the rest of the story”, my kid asked when I was about to leave the room, after have read for him three chapters of the book.

“Tomorrow”, I answered.

“I would like to know now”.

I came back and sit in his bed. “Remember when you asked me if you could ride your bike alone all the way to the river?”

“Yes,” and those curious blue eyes shined the way they do every time they see a box of his favorite chocolates.

“But you said I couldn’t. I had to wait till I grow up a little bit more.”

“Indeed, and I also explained why didn’t I?”

He lowered his eyes and answered in a whisper: “Hum-hum”, waving his head up and down.

“This is the same thing with the rest of the story. We can’t rush things. Every moment is important. The time we spent waiting for something to happen is as precious as the happening. So, tonight you will dream with the rest of the story, and tomorrow we will see how it ends. Is that ok?”

“Yes,” he said, waving his head more frenetically.

“So, have a good night and wonderful dreams,” I said standing up and giving him a goodnight kiss.

“And who knows,” I said from the door, “your story is even better than the real one”.

And that was the exact moment when a writer was born.

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