A wise, disarmingly simple rumination on the idea that disappearance is really only change.
For someone to disappear, Martins begins, someone else has to be left behind with questions: “ ‘Where has she gone?’ ‘Will we ever see each other again?’ ” But from leaves and rain puddles to the sand on beaches and the noise of children at play, everything in this world disappears, going somewhere else or taking some new form. “Endless possibilities,” she writes—but those possibilities never include just nothing: “Nothing is too empty a place to go. And besides, if we all go there, it will cease to be nothing in no time. (We can’t do that to it.)” Done in muted colors and linked by a heavy black line that sometimes looks like a frame and sometimes like a road, the thinly inked block-print illustrations progress from scenes of solitary adults and children in familiar domestic settings to semi-abstract landscapes and then images of a car full of smiling companions traveling a path that winds to the horizon.
Without a direct mention or visual reference to death, here is real comfort to readers who have suffered any sort of loss, profound or otherwise. (Picture book. 5 & up)