By Maria Popova (themarginalian.org)

Two of the most dangerous myths we live with are the idea, handed down to us by the Romantics, that in true love two people meet each other’s every need and desire, and the idea, sold to us by the merchants of materialism and woven into the fundamental mythos of the modern world, that happiness is a matter of attaining the external objects of our desire that would finally give us the interior stillness of enough.

But then we live.

We live and we discover that our desires are mirages in the desert of our self-knowledge, discover that of all we attain nothing holds, nothing but the light between us. We discover that love is not found in the grand gestures and dramatic demonstrations of devotion, is not proven by doing the impossible for someone, but dwells quietly in showing up with passion and persistence for the possibility of more light.

French author Nadine Brun-Cosme and artist Olivier Tallec invite that discovery with great tenderness in Big Wolf & Little Wolf: The Little Leaf That Wouldn’t Fall (public library) — the sequel to their uncommonly lovely parable about loneliness, belonging, and how friendship transforms us that remains one of my favorite books of all time.

High up in a tree was a little leaf.

In the spring, this leaf was such a sweet and tender green that Little Wolf wanted nothing more than to eat it up.

“Big Wolf,” said Little Wolf. “Go get me that leaf. I just have to taste it.”

“Wait,” said Big Wolf. “Eventually it will fall.”

When summer comes, the leaf grows shiny and deep green, so dazzling that Little Wolf wants it even more, to use as a mirror. Big Wolf keeps assuring him that it will fall if he waits.

When autumn comes to color the tree with its magical alchemy of photons and frugality, Little Wolf is even more beguiled by the leaf, yearning to press it against his cheek. Once more Big Wolf counsels him to wait for it to fall.

But then it doesn’t.

As the skeletal tree rises from the snow-covered hill, the little leaf keeps waving in the gale, a banner for the kingdom of longing.

One morning, Big Wolf awakes, stretches, and, in the unbidden way that those who love show up for those whom they love, announces that he is going to climb the tree.

He said it just like that, for no reason at all.

Just to see Little Wolf’s eyes sparkle.

As Big Wolf ascends the tree and climbs onto thinner and thinner icy branches, Little Wolf’s delight petrifies to fear.

But when Big Wolf finally stretches across the thinnest branch and manages to touch the edge of the leaf with his fingertips, the leaf crumbles at his touch, raining red and gold flakes down upon Little Wolf in the setting sun.

Little Wolf looked up into this rain of gentle stars.

As pieces passed in front of his nose, Little Wolf caught a teeny tiny one onto his tongue, and he tasted its sweetness.

As another passed before his eyes, he saw how bright it was.

When a piece slid all the way down his cheek, he felt how gentle it was, and he trembled for a long time.

Then all the pieces blew farther and farther away.

Big Wolf watches from above, still and smiling.

Back down on the ground, they sit together as night falls and Little Wolf whispers:

That was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.

This may be what love is — how the fantasy can crumble into a reality more beautiful than you could have imagined, how in the failure to meet the other’s need is the tender triumph of having tried, how these gestures of kindness and care are in the end the most beautiful thing we can give one another.