The refreshing gale flowed through the mellow, pleasant valley. Happy cheers echoed off the hills and expectant faces looked at each other and gasped. The little Sunflower Valley, inhabited by the lovely flower pixies that lived in it were all looking forward to this year's produce. Children gathered around their parents, newlyweds cried cheerfully as another gush of gentle wind glided its way through the hills.
“My dearest pixies”, The sunflower King spoke into his loudspeaker, “As we all wait confidently for this year's produce, we celebrate the coming of our new young ones! Hope for the next generation!”.
The people cheered back, “Hope for the next generation!”, they toasted. Everyone laughed and hugged as the final gush of wind came. The people of Sunflower Valley held out their hands to the sky, higher and higher, reaching for something. Small woven baskets carried by parachutes made from leaves floated down the sky.
Baby pixies, bodies swaddled in blankets, and black eyes wide and curious. The annual Giving has been accomplished. A pair of newlyweds, two mothers looked down at their new children. A lovely boy with pale white skin, a button nose, and blonde hair. A striking girl with gorgeous cocoa-brown skin, white freckles, and silver locks. And you, with your bewitching, bright eyes, flawless skin tone and a book in your hand.
One of the women had joyful tears running down her face whilst the other wiped them away, hugging her wife closer to her chest. The baskets landed on the lush grass in front of them. The two mothers kneeled before the children, bowing down and holding their clasped hands above their heads. “Praise and Gratitude to the Holy One, Tamer of the Celestial Tree”, cried the people of the valley. The two new mothers whispered the saying before taking their children into their arms.
You and your siblings looked up at your Mothers, holding your hands out in expectation. Everything . . . is so wonderfully bright, you say to yourself.
There was a whole new world for you to explore. And this was only the start of it . . .