A little stream runs down the hill. He wants to become a Great River. ‘Happily I run along everyday. Happily I meet many flowers and trees and fascinating animals. Happily I give them nourishment and watch them thrive. It is a good day.’

The little stream soon discovers that he is not growing as fast as he wants. Giving water to others takes away water that he needs to become a big river! ‘Maybe I should stop giving and keep the water to myself so that I can grow!’ He thought.

So, in the desire to grow into a big river, he tries to keep away from other animals and trees and flowers. He chooses to meander through dry and silent hills where very few things live, and only offers himself to a few animals or trees or flowers. He sings no more but he feels that he is doing the right thing – He is on his way to become a big river! To be big! That is how the Great Rivers got their names. Small rivers doesn’t get capital letters to their names. There are just too many of them.

Slowly but surely, the little stream becomes a little river.

One day he flows near a brook. That brook sings a happy songs of giving water to others. Then the little river remembers the happy songs he used to sing. He longs to sing the happy song again. He misses his friends, the flowers, trees and animals.

He decides to start giving again.

The little river again flows through places where many are thirsty or really needs a good bath. Many flowers, trees and animals are happier because of the little river. But the little river doesn’t grow anymore. In fact, he becomes a little smaller sometimes, almost back to the size of a little stream.

But he doesn’t care so much about becoming a Great River anymore. He doesn’t know how to, anyway.

On a sunny and windy day, the small river comes to the end of his journey. He is joining the Sea.

He never become the Great River that he wanted to be. He never have the capital letters to his name. He is just a little river. To be honest, he is a little disappointed.

Just as he is entering the Sea, he hears ruffling and shuffling, and a great cacophony. He looks back, and he sees many animals, big and small, that he has fed and bathed before, coming to send him off. He smells the fragrance from the many flowers he nourished. He sees, standing tall faraway, the trees he has watered during some dry months.

The little river gives out a sigh of relief. He laughs. He knows that he might not be a Great River on the adventurers’ maps, yet he has been, and will be, great, in the memories of all the animals and flowers and trees he has came across.

Without looking back anymore, he merrily enters the Sea.