By Bill Conley
America’s Favorite Children’s Storyteller
Moral
of the Story:
You don’t need brothers or sisters
to have a big, loving family. Love comes from hearts that care for you, not
just from people who share your home. Even when you play or dream alone, you
are surrounded by love. Every hug, every laugh, every bedtime story fills your
world with belonging. Being an only child means you get to share special
moments that are yours alone. You are loved deeply, wholly, and completely, just
the way you are. The family that surrounds you, near and far, is your team,
your joy, your heart. You’re never alone when love lives all around you.
In a cozy riverside burrow lived a
young otter named Oliver.
Oliver had shiny brown fur, curious eyes, and a smile that could brighten even
the gloomiest day. He loved to build things out of sticks and smooth river
stones and to float on his back under the golden sun.
Oliver’s parents adored him. His mom
made up silly songs just for him, and his dad taught him how to dive for river
shells. But sometimes, when the moon rose high and the crickets sang, Oliver
felt something he didn’t quite understand.
He watched other otter families
playing together, brothers splashing, sisters racing, and cousins laughing. He
loved to watch, but sometimes his heart whispered, I wish I had someone my
size to play with, too.
One afternoon, Oliver sat on a flat
rock by the water, watching the ripples shimmer. His mom came over, sat beside
him, and said softly, “Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?”
Oliver sighed. “It’s just… Everyone
else seems to have brothers and sisters. And I only have me.”
His mom smiled gently. “Ah, my
little otter. You may not have brothers or sisters in this burrow, but you have
something very special.”
Oliver tilted his head. “What’s
that?”
“You have all of us,” she
said, pointing around. “You have your cousins, your aunts, your grandparents, and your friends from the riverbank. And you have me and Dad, who love you more than
all the stars in the sky.”
Oliver thought about that. “But… it
still feels different.”
His mom nodded. “It is different,
sweetheart, but different can be wonderful.”
Just then, Oliver’s grandpa came
paddling down the river in his old wooden canoe. “Who’s ready for a boat ride?”
he called out with a grin.
Oliver’s eyes sparkled. “Me! Me!
Me!”
His dad lifted him in, and soon they
were gliding down the river. Grandpa told his favorite stories about when he
was a young otter, tales of storms survived, fish caught, and laughter that
echoed across the water.
As the boat rocked gently, Oliver
giggled. “Grandpa, your stories always make me happy.”
“That’s because,” Grandpa said with
a wink, “every story reminds you that you belong to something bigger than
yourself. You belong to us.”
That night, after dinner, Oliver’s
family gathered under the starlight for a family sing-along. Aunt Millie played
the guitar, Grandpa drummed on an old bucket, and Grandma hummed a soft tune.
Oliver twirled and danced while his parents clapped along.
As he spun under the stars,
something warmed inside his chest. He realized that he didn’t feel alone. He
felt full, full of laughter, full of music, and full of love.
The next morning, Oliver went for a
swim with his friend Daisy the Duckling.
“You’re lucky,” Daisy quacked. “Your
parents always have time to play with you. I have six brothers and they splash too
much!”
Oliver laughed. “Sometimes, it’s
nice having all the attention. But sometimes, I wish I had someone to play with
all the time.”
Daisy smiled. “Well, you have me!”
and she splashed a big wave right in his face.
Oliver giggled and splashed back.
“You’re right! I do!”
That afternoon, Oliver’s
grandparents stopped by for a surprise picnic. His aunt and uncle came, too,
with his cousins in tow. They spread out a big blanket, shared honeyfish
sandwiches, and told jokes that made everyone roar with laughter.
Grandpa looked at Oliver and said,
“See, kiddo? You may be an only child, but you’ve got a whole team
behind you. We’re your village.”
Oliver smiled. “A big family of
love,” he said softly.
His mom leaned over and hugged him.
“That’s exactly right.”
From then on, whenever Oliver felt
that little whisper of loneliness, he remembered that his family’s love
stretched farther than the river, deeper than the water, and wider than the
sky.
He still built stick castles by
himself, but now he saw it differently.
When he played alone, he imagined all his loved ones around him, cheering him
on, believing in him, and loving him in their own ways.
And you know what? That’s exactly
what they were doing.
Oliver wasn’t an only child.
He was the center of a great, wide circle of love.
Poem:
You may be one, but you’re never
alone.
For love surrounds where your heart has grown.
A hug from Mom, a cheer from Dad,
A song from Grandpa makes you glad.
Aunties laugh, and cousins play.
Your family loves you every day.
You’re part of a circle, strong and wide,
With endless love on every side.
Questions
for Discussion:
1.
What made Oliver feel lonely at the
beginning of the story?
2.
What helped him see that being an
only child can still mean having a big family?
3.
Who are the people in your
circle of love, the ones who make you feel special and never alone?
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