Where the Wild Things Are

I was exhausted last night. I think the trek down the Pacific finally caught up with me.

I crawled into bed around 9:30 and remembered that Joseph had left for me a copy of Where The Wild Things Are. Not having read the book since my youth, I turned off the radio and read the story about Max.

Of course the colorful pictures conjured memories from my childhood, but what really struck me was the end of the book.

The moment Max decides to leave the island of the Wild Things it is because of a scent - the smell of his dinner. I don't know how I never recalled this detail, but I couldn't get over it!

I froze on those pages and read the lines over and over again:

And Max, the king of all Wild Things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all. And then, all around, from far away and across the world, he smelled good things to eat. So he gave up being King of where the Wild Things are, but the Wild Things cried "Oh please don't go! We'll eat you up, we love you so!" and Max said, "No".

Max sails through a year, a week and then a night only to return to his room and find his dinner is sitting there. Still hot.

Now, my mind started rolling and I began playing a million thoughts at once. But, as I always say, this is a blog and I must be brief: we all want to be where we are loved best and food is the warmest way to express that security.

Don't we all feel, or at least long to feel, this way?