The Bamboo and the Wind

It is night. We are in a small wooden house at the edge of a bamboo grove. Our blanket is soft. A little lamp glows in the corner.

Outside, the wind is growing big. Whoosh... whoosh... It rattles the window. It whistles through the trees.

Let us listen from here, warm and safe...

The bamboo stands close together, tall and thin. When the wind comes, the bamboo does not fight it. It bends. It leans low... and lets the wind go by.

Bend and sway... bend and sway... and never break.

Tok... tok... tok... The bamboo stems knock softly against each other. Shhh... shhh... The long leaves rustle. It sounds like the grove is whispering. "We are here. We are together. Hold on."

Under the ground, their roots hold hands. They are joined deep in the earth. So even when the tops bend low, the roots stay strong.

The wind blows harder. Whoo-oo-oo... The bamboo bends almost down to the grass. For a moment, I wonder, will the bamboo be alright?

Let us breathe in... and breathe out... slowly... We are inside. We are warm. And the bamboo knows just what to do.

Bend and sway... bend and sway... and never break.

Hours pass. Slowly, the wind gets tired. Whoosh... whoo... shh... It grows softer and softer. Then it is only a breeze. Then it is quiet.

We sleep.

In the morning, we open the door. The air is fresh and cool. Tiny drops shine on every leaf. A bird sings on a branch. Chirrup... chirrup...

And the bamboo? It is standing tall again. Straight and green, reaching for the sky. A few leaves lie scattered on the ground. But the grove is whole, and it is smiling in the sun.

Bend and sway... bend and sway... and never break.

Little one, some days feel like windy nights. On those days, we do not have to be stiff and hard. We can bend a little. We can sway. We can rest, and breathe, and hold on to each other.

And when the morning comes, we will stand tall again. Like the bamboo. Together.

Let us breathe in the fresh morning air... and breathe out... soft and strong, like the bamboo.