This is the beginning of a compilation of stories I tell my son. They’re stuff I just make up on a whim, not unlike the stories I remember by Dad telling me when I was a kid. I don’t know if Timmy will remember these stories (he’s only 1!), so this is my way of recording them. I’ll record his reactions too.
We had just looked at the full moon and Timmy was still mesmerized. He wouldn’t stop pointing at the window even when he, my husband and I were in bed. A bedtime story would do the trick. It worked better than I thought. After the story, Timmy was fast asleep; and so was my husband.
Once upon a time there was a young boy named Luna who lived on the moon. He fed from the stars so he glowed all over. The stars were his parents, the constellations his friends. He grew up taking care of the moon — sweeping craters, decluttering. He was the moon’s keeper. He slept in a crater that was just the right size for him.
One day, astronauts landed on the moon. They invited him to Earth. Luna said yes, so into the shuttle they went and blasted off into space.
Upon arriving on Earth, Luna saw that it was polluted and grey. He grew sad right away and missed his moon. He saw that the trees were becoming scarce, that the people were fighting and the air was smoky. He missed the quiet of his moon. He missed how clean it was up there.
The astronauts asked if he wanted to stay long, but Luna said he missed the moon. So into a shuttle he went again and off into space he went.
Luna is still on the moon. He won’t let any people live on the moon — not till he sees that they know how to take care of their own world. Maybe that’s why nobody lives on the moon just yet. We have to learn how to take better care of the Earth first before we start learning how to live on the moon or other planets.
If you look real close, you’ll see a young man sweeping debris away from the moon’s surface, throwing out any garbage that comes the moon’s way. Luna is the moon’s keeper.
Image credit: “By the light of the silvery moon” by John, c/o Flickr.