If you sat on a star,
What could you see?
The whole world,
Actually.
You could see the green of the grass and the blue of the ocean.
You could see clouds looking like they're whipping up magical potions.
You could see the moon rise and the sun when it sets.
But the best bit of all is to be told to you yet.
Just hold out your hand and wrap it around.
The world is there,
Safe and sound.
Use your hand like a telescope.
What can you see?
The whole world is there,
Full of possibility.
So let's fly to the Earth where I'll show you,
My friends.
Where their love for each other never,
Ever ends.
You're welcome in Little World.
Come take a seat.
Where kindness and laughter and adventure all meet.
Every story we share holds the truth,
Soft and bright.
That everything special is already inside.
Now meet the gang,
The best there could be.
There's Hazel the squirrel,
Who's wild and free.
A gentle night owl is Moon,
Calm and wise.
And Pea the fairy,
With shimmering eyes.
There's Mabel the dog,
Loyal and strong.
And Bob the sweet hedgehog,
Who always hums along.
His wife and their boblets complete their warm nest.
They think Auntie Hazel is the absolute best.
My name is Charlotte,
Your voice in the trees.
So come join the fun whenever you please.
Welcome to Little World.
Let's begin our tale with wonder,
With heart,
And a warm fairy trail.
Today in Little World,
Hazel feels a bit ill.
One morning in Little World,
While the sun was rising over the trees and brushing the forest in golden light,
Something was different.
Hazel wasn't doing her usual morning run around the tree,
With her tail bouncing and her eyes wide.
She wasn't outside at all.
She was curled up in her nest.
Under a soft,
Leafy blanket,
Her nose sniffling and her paws feeling a bit floppy.
Her whiskers twitched as she gave a dramatic little sigh.
This must be the end of me,
She groaned into the blanket.
Just then,
Pea fluttered up to the entrance of the nest,
Holding a little pinecone as a present.
She peeked inside and blinked.
Hazel,
Are you okay?
You missed the sunrise.
That's your favourite bit.
Hazel groaned again,
This time even more dramatically.
I know,
My bushy tail feels very,
Very sad.
Pea flew inside and gently placed the pinecone down.
She rested her tiny hand on Hazel's forehead.
She frowned.
Hazel,
You're poorly.
You need rest.
Hazel sniffled.
But what if my bounce never comes back?
Pea gave her a brave little smile and flew off.
A moment later,
She returned with help.
Moon,
Mabel,
And Bob the Hedgehog all peeked into Hazel's nest like worried little nurses.
Moon said,
It was very quiet at sunrise this morning,
Hazel.
I heard my own thoughts instead of yours.
That was weird.
Bob gave a wise little nod.
Ah,
Classic case of the floppy fuzz.
I don't think I've ever known Hazel feel poorly before.
Mabel then suggested,
Soup or a nap or both?
Definitely both.
Moon offered to write a calming song,
A very emotional one,
He added.
From under the blanket,
Hazel let out a tiny groan.
If you sing,
I will pass out surely forever.
The friends laughed quietly.
Inside the cozy nest with her friends,
The world began to feel a little softer.
Bob stirred a small pot of moss and mushroom soup on her stove.
Mabel waited by the door,
Ready to guard the nest from any sudden cold breezes.
Pea was tidying up stray twigs and fluffing Hazel's pillow.
But Moon just stared at Hazel.
What are you looking at,
Moon Eyes?
Hazel asked with her soft,
Croaky voice.
Wow,
This is all very strange,
Isn't it?
I'm finding the quietness all a bit weird,
Replied Moon.
Moon sat next to Hazel so she could lean into his soft feathers.
As she sat up and sipped her soup,
She snuggled under her leafy blanket.
Moon,
You are so comfy,
I could move into your body.
Then she looked around at her other friends,
And her eyes started to water.
You're all being so nice,
She whispered.
I feel like a teeny tiny wrinkly leaf.
But my heart feels warm.
Pea smiled.
You don't have to bounce to be brilliant.
We love you even when you're poorly.
Even when I'm not funny,
Hazel asked.
Especially then,
Moon replied.
Later that evening,
Hazel was feeling a little better.
She got her cosy,
Wosey pyjamas on as she popped her head out of the nest and called down to the others who were gathered around the fire.
I may not be up to full speed tree spinning,
She said,
But I'm still in charge of marshmallow distribution.
And that made everyone cheer.
They spent the evening around the fire,
Giggling gently,
Roasting marshmallows and telling small stories.
Hazel was enjoying once again a new seating area,
Which was leaning on Moon and sinking into his incredible feathers.
She was wearing a leaf crown that Bob had made,
And enjoying sipping warm berry tea and smiling in that sleepy,
Happy way that only comes after being really well looked after.
Moon cleared his throat as though he had something to say.
I didn't write a song,
But a poem instead.
Would anyone like to hear it?
No,
Hazel replied.
Only joking,
Moon.
Of course we do.
Okay.
I titled the poem,
The Quiet When Hazel Slept.
The morning began in an odd sort of way.
No Hazel whizzing or yelling hooray.
No squirrel tornado around the odd tree.
Just whispering wind and a very still me.
She wasn't bouncing or flapping her paws.
She wasn't mid-monologue breaking the laws of physics and logic and general peace.
She was quiet,
And honestly,
That did not cease.
She curled up in feathers right under my wing.
Mumbling Moon,
You're the softest darn thing.
And though I said ugh with a weary old sigh,
I secretly liked it,
But don't tell her why.
The silence was strange.
I heard my own thoughts,
Which frankly are dull and quite riddled with knots.
Without Hazel's voice bouncing round in my head,
It felt like the world had gone.
Quiet instead.
I missed her bold rambling,
Her twirls and her snorts.
Her wild declarations and courtroom reports.
She's chaos and kindness all rolled into one.
Like a teacup of lightning who thinks it's the sun.
So yes,
While she lay there all sneezy and still,
The woods felt too quiet,
The air had a chill.
And I knew right then,
In a very clear way,
That Little World isn't Little World when Hazel's away.
So here's to our Hazel,
Both bonkers and dear.
The fastest squirrel friend you'll find anywhere near.
Whether whispering softly or running full pace,
She's the heart of our tree and the joy in this place.
And next time she naps in my wing with a sneeze,
I'll say,
Oh,
How dull.
But I'll hug her with ease.
Because even when silent and floppy with fluff,
Our Hazel is more than squirrelly enough.
The End Hazel's eyes were full of tears.
I don't really know what to say.
That's the nicest poem anyone has ever written for me.
Hazel replies.
Who else has written you a poem,
Hazel?
P asks.
Oh,
Oh,
Well,
No one actually.
Hazel replied.
So when the stars finally twinkled above them and the fire turned to glowing embers,
They returned to the nest.
And P curled up beside Hazel.
I liked looking after you today,
P whispered.
Hazel tucked the blanket around both of them.
You did good,
P.
It's nice to know someone will bring me soup when I flop.
They giggled softly and drifted off to sleep,
Safe in their cozy little world.
Even the bounciest,
Brightest creatures need rest sometimes.
And it's okay to feel unwell.
And it's more than okay to let others take care of you.
Because love doesn't need backflips.
Just kindness,
Soup,
And friends who stay close.
The end.
