WELL THAT'S LIFE SOMETIMES

While the Lion was working in his garden, he heard a sound.

It was a bird — poor little thing!

The Lion couldn’t just leave the bird there.

“Let’s bandage your wing,” said the Lion. “This will make you feel better.”“Look, the other birds have flown away. But don’t worry,” he added, placing the bird among his mane, on top of his head. “You won’t be cold here.”

From then on, a life for two began for the Lion.He had been alone until the bird came.He hadn’t done anything to make it come — it simply had.And once it did, he cherished it, carried it on his head like a crown.He shared his home, his table, his warmth, his bed, his sleep, his silence — and sometimes even his noise.

Day turned into night, rain into wind, and snow began to fall. Watching it through the window, he said,“Snow may be freezing, but we’ll keep you warm,”and just like that, he guaranteed no cold, as he had guaranteed trust and love.

Winter passed like this — two souls enjoying every single day together.It was icy, yes, but being together made the cold not so bad.

Then, one day, the good weather returned.

And so did the other birds.

What did our bird do? It left.

The Lion said, “Well, what can we do — sometimes life is like that.”

I continue speaking from the quiet, tender pages of picture books — those with few words, rich imagery, and deep emotion.I wanted to reflect on what Marianne Dubuc’s The Lion and the Bird, both written and illustrated by her, is trying to tell us through its white, silent pages filled with solitude.

Our Lion is a wise character.He lives alone until one day, an injured bird enters his life and changes everything.This wounded bird gives meaning to the Lion’s magnificent solitude.Everything becomes easier, lighter, and more joyful when they are two.Even sleeping.

But then the bird heals.It flies away — it is in its nature.Did it leave because it healed, or because it had taken what it needed?The Lion, being wise, simply says: Sometimes life is like that.But is life really like that? Must it be?

When I shared this book and my thoughts about writing on it with my friend Deniz, she said:

“Life is like that because you are wounded too.And when someone’s wound feels familiar, you forget your own pain and try to heal theirs.But in truth, the one you’re trying to heal is yourself.Because that’s how it is.”Then she ended her thought with a sharper sentence:“This is how it is.”

I couldn’t help wondering — what was the Lion’s wound?A voice inside me whispered: His wound was his solitude.He was alone, and only another wounded lonely soul could bring him healing.With endless and untamed hope, I too felt healed somewhere deep inside —not by blaming the one who left, but by realizing that both had met to heal.

I had always read the story blaming the one who healed and left —of course they left, they got better!And there I saw how unprepared I was for the paradox of being the one who goes or the one who stays.How easily we slip into that melancholy pattern:“The healed one leaves; the one who stays becomes the victim, bearing the wound again.”But as soon as I noticed it, I refused to stay in that drama.

The one who healed was also the healer.They healed by healing —because some come into this world to heal,and the more they heal, the more meaning they find in life.If the bird had healed so it wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t that have been a kind of ugly bargain?True harmony and ease exist only in freedom.What kind of bond would it be, if it was built on a debt for being healed?

We’ve thought a lot for nothing, haven’t we?But it all leads to this:No good deed should carry expectations.No bond should turn into a transaction.Everyone should have the freedom to leave one day —and know there will still be a door to knock on if they ever wish to return.

And then what happens?Autumn comes, and the Lion calls out:“Autumn is here — but where are you?”

A single birdsong becomes a note on the page,and a spark of hope in our hearts.

The award-winning The Lion and the Bird made me write all this.I suggest reading it yourself —it was written so that we, adults, could see the healing side of both leaving and staying,as well as hope and forgiveness.

Perhaps it wasn’t written exactly that way —but this was what it meant to me.

I wonder what it will mean to you.Read it, and share your reflection with us. Will you?

Friendship – Belonging – Solitude

Zarife Tarakcı