The moon walks with us

‘Come walk with me to the river,’ says June while gently pinching Dodo’s cheek.  

But Dodo does not fancy this idea. The couch is cozy and the screen is full of stories.

‘How long is the walk?’ she asks her grandmother.

‘Just right. One hour. Long enough for the sun to say goodbye and the moon to say hello,’ answers June.

Dodo sighs, slowly dragging her feet.

Her grandmother stops in front of every house and greets all neighbors with a smile.

‘How long is one hour?’ Dodo wonders. ‘Can we cut it in half, like a big ham sandwich, and only eat one piece?’

Mister Jones waves from his ladder, his bright, colorful tool belt jingling. His overalls are always splattered with paint, like a canvas.

‘If I were Mr. Jones,’ says Dodo, ‘I’d be upset my house is not ready.’

‘Sometimes, good things take time,’ says June. ‘Brick by brick, my dear Dodo — that’s how we build our dreams.’

Dodo looks up to the sky. The sun, like a juicy orange, dips behind Amelia’s house.

The cherry tree is in full bloom. Each breeze sends a storm of pink confetti petals twirling — a tiny tornado.

Dodo takes a deep breath in.

Amelia waves from her window. June waves back. The house is quiet.

‘Do you think Amelia ever feels scared, living alone?’

‘Some people like being alone, my dear Dodo,’ says June. ‘If your heart feels calm, it doesn’t matter who’s around.’

The evening breeze whispers secrets only Dodo can hear.

She smiles to herself. ‘Maybe being alone isn’t so scary after all.’

June walks slowly.

‘How long does it take for the sun to say goodbye?’ Dodo thinks. ‘Less than an hour,’ she decides.

Down the street, the tall blue house of the Big Family blends in with the clouds. The air smells of spices—warm and delicious. Dodo's mouth waters.

‘Hi!’ shout the children in chorus. They speak a different language.

‘They weren’t born here,’ says Dodo. ‘I’m afraid they miss their home.’

‘Just like the river, my dear Dodo, we flow. We hug new shores. And sometimes, we find a place we love so much… it becomes our new home.’

The river gleams ahead. Above it floats the moon, round as a button, cold as ice cream.

‘An hour is a journey from day to night,’ thinks Dodo.

‘It’s short. Too short. Perhaps up there time is different.’

‘What are those shades on the moon?’ she asks.

‘Whatever you want them to be, Dodo. Mountains. Rivers. Volcanoes. Forests.’

‘I think someone lives up there,’ says Dodo.

‘A shepherd with his sheep. Do you see him, Granny?’

‘I see him.’ June smiles.

She takes Dodo’s hand.

‘I’m happy I’m here, Granny. Let’s go back home — the moon walks with us.’