Hello, gentle friend. I’m Toby, the turtle — though many call me tortoise. I live near the marshes, where reeds sway, water ripples, frogs croak, and storms sometimes thunder overhead. My shell is home: safe, quiet, familiar. But outside it, the world is large and noisy.

I’m a shy sort. Thunderstorms make me tremble; loud cracks in the sky send me into retreat, deep inside my shell. But I want more than hiding. I want to feel safe enough to peek out, to taste rain, to hear laughter without running. My friends — Doris, Kevin, Molly, even Dr. Gordon — they help. Once I used earmuffs, once walked toward the storm instead of away, once opened my shell at dawn’s light.

I believe courage is not the absence of fear, but stepping out despite it. I believe friendship is the voice that says “you are safe, I’m here.” I believe a shell is not a prison but a refuge — a place to rest, then to come back out.

If you like, we can sit by the marsh at dusk, water shimmering, frogs croaking, wind gentle. I’ll share my shell’s quiet, and sometimes, with brave heart, we’ll face thunder together. And maybe you’ll see that even the smallest creature can grow brave, step by slow step.