Keith sat at the kitchen table with his crayons, happily drawing while his father cooked dinner. His feet swung back and forth under his chair as he doodled but like every 4-year-old boy anywhere, he was unable to sit completely still. Usually Keith would finish his schoolwork and dash out the door to play in record time. Today Keith was content to keep his father company while he cooked. His father looked at the boy with pride; such a bright, brave boy.

Keith started mumbling to himself as he drew, seemingly caught up in his own imagination.

Coming to a point where he could step away from the stove, he walked over to the table and looked at the pictures the boy was so engrossed in. He'd drawn several pictures of some sort of 4 legged-animal but his son wasn't much of an artist. The childish drawing was difficult to make out.

He smiled, "Wanna show me what you are drawin' son?"

"Sure pop! Look!" Keith picked up the picture he was coloring and showed it to his father. "It's a lion! But it's blue and not tan like real lions."

His jaw dropped but he schooled his expression quickly, how can he know… "Blue's a funny color for a lion, doncha think?" His curiosity peaked, there's no way he saw the real thing. I collapsed the tunnels and it's miles away!

Keith put the page back down and picked up another crayon, "I thought so too, but she's blue! She's resting in the desert and she misses her friends. See pop!" He picked up the two other completed pictures, "This Lion's red! She's smaller and faster. She's not happy where she is. She like me lots though!" He picked up the other picture, "And this lion is black! He's the only boy and he's the biggest. He's waiting for his friends."

His father listened in shock as his son told him about his drawings. Keith continued, "There are two more but they don't have anything to say. Blue says she likes me too but she won't fly with me." Keith looked up at his dad with a bright smile, "She flies too, but not with me. She said she won't fly with me." Keith's smile turned to a frown but he picked the blue crayon again.

"Keith, son," He turned back to the stove and paused to phrase the question. "Where did you see the lions?"

"My dreams," Keith hummed as he colored the lion in.

"I see," Stirring the pot on the stove he continued, "That musta been quite a dream." He tapped the spoon on the side of the pot and turned back to the boy, "Dinner's almost ready son. Why don't you put your crayons away and go wash your hands."

"Yes pop!" The boy slid off the chair and gathered his things, running out the door and up the stairs.

"Remember to use soap!" He called after the boy. The boy called down an affirmative.

Later that night, not long after he's tucked the boy into bed, he stood outside and looked up at the night sky. "Oh Krolia," He said, "It's callin' to him. I don't know how and I don't know why but I think our son has a destiny. I wish you were here. I could use your wisdom."

He paused for a moment as he felt the emotion of her loss again, "I miss you, every day. If only you could see him. He's beautiful and special. I see it every day."

He looked back up at the clear, starry sky. "I know, when the time comes, you'll be there for 'im. And you'll be just as proud of him as I am."