Little Rose & Uku

She was swinging back and forth from the great tree in her mother’s garden, where her father had tied a swing just for her.

Rose loved gazing at the sky while the world blurred into a great swirl of blue. Her hair lifted in the wind, the rush of air brushing her cheeks. The freedom of the flight, followed by the sudden pull when the swing reached its highest arc—it was thrilling every time.

She could stay there for hours, hypnotized by the beauty of the sky. But a sharp crack broke the moment.

A branch had snapped somewhere in the forest.

Rose felt it immediately: someone was watching her.

Curiosity pulled her from the swing, and she left her mother’s garden once again. By now she had become a skilled little adventurer, so she followed the faint traces of small bare feet pressed into the earth. Step by step, she went deeper into the forest, farther than she had ever gone before.

Eventually, the path opened to the edge of a lagoon with dark, heavy waters. Across it stood a great old tree.

Rose paused.

The place felt strangely familiar, yet completely different from the forest she knew. The air was thicker here, lush and alive. The sounds of cicadas, crickets, and frogs wove together into a humming song.

The great tree on the far side was unmistakable. A ceibo. She recognized it from the stories her grandmother used to tell about her journeys in the Amazon.

Then something moved.

From behind a curtain of broad monstera leaves stepped the small figure she had been following. It was a girl about Rose’s age. Her skin was darker, her body slender. Her hair was black like Rose’s, but straight, with soft bangs that framed her bright, almond-shaped eyes.

Rose felt a strange recognition, as if she already knew her—even though they had never met.

Without a word, the girl turned toward the lagoon.

She smiled with her eyes and jumped.

Vanishing into the dark water.

Rose hesitated only for a moment before leaping after her.

The water swallowed them.

They sank into the deepest part of the lagoon, where the mud was cold and thick. It was dark, uncomfortable, and frightening. For a moment, fear tightened around her—she thought there might be no way out, that she could simply disappear there.

Then she saw them.

The roots of the ancient ceibo tree.

They stretched through the water like living veins, glowing faintly, pulsing softly as if they were breathing. All the roots curved inward, drawn toward a single place at the center.

There, something was beating.

A great heart of LOVE.

It pulsed slowly and powerfully, feeding warmth through every root, nurturing the whole world with love.

Uku reached into the glowing center and scooped a small portion of that living love into her hands. Gently, she offered it to Rose.

With great care, she placed some upon Rose’s heart, and some upon her womb.

The moment it touched her, the LOVE spread through her whole body. It was too intense to contain. It burst through her like light, dissolving every cell into nothingness.

Rose was no more.

And in that moment, she understood:

Even when she was no more, she would always be LOVE.

And that is what brought her back.

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying beside the old ceibo tree.

In her hand rested a lotus flower.

Its petals were so bright white they shimmered like silver in the light. Rose held it carefully and carried it back home.

And when the lotus flower was no more,

Rose jumped right back into the void.