Once upon a time, there was a boy who talked to the moon.
Every time he couldn’t sleep, he’d slip out of bed, open his windows, and ask the moon, “Why can’t I sleep?”
The moon would answer, “Because you’re talking to me.”
“But that’s what momma told me to do,” he would reply, pouting as his chin rests on the window sill.
The moon would smile and say the same thing she always says. “Go back to bed, I’ll give you a good night kiss to help you sleep.”
A light breeze then blows past the boy, fluffing his hair and fluttering the curtains. His little face would light up and he’d bid the moon “good night” before closing the windows and tucking himself under the covers.
“Sleep well, my child,” the moon would whisper to the sealed glass.
Years and years later, the boy has grown up but his sleepless habit remained the same.
In a different room, from a different bed and by a different window, he slips out, leaving his beloved, to talk to the moon.
“Help me sleep,” he begs the moon.
But she doesn’t answer.
“Why can’t I sleep?” He tries again.
“Because you keep talking to her,” a soft voice replies, different than the one he grew up hearing.
“Oh I’m sorry, did I wake you?” He apologises, turning around to see her shake her head with a sleepy smile.
“Come, your mother wouldn’t be happy to know her son stays up very late at night to talk to her,” she says, holding his hand between hers.
He looks to the moon in melancholy.
“She doesn’t reply anymore, does she?”
Her question catches him off-guard, but he nods lightly with a small smile to his love. “No, she doesn’t.”
And he has figured out why.
He leans in for a kiss and she places a gentle one on his lips. Her good night kisses are different from the ones given by the moon, but they both give him a sense of warm peace deep in his heart.
He closes the windows and crawls back into the bed behind her, snuggling under the blanket with the love of his life.
While the two’s breathing synchronise in restful sleep, the night sky welcomes a light drizzle.
To the sealed glass windows glinting with raindrops, the moon finally whispers, “Sleep well, my child.”