Bodie and the Moon in the Puddle

“I’ll bring you a piece of moon,” Bodie promises, peering into the puddle.

The young ankylosaurus sees a round moon resting in the water. It looks close enough to touch. Above him, the real moon has just climbed over the hills, bright and white in the night sky. The valley is quiet except for crickets singing in the grass.

Bodie turns toward the sleeping hollow. Inside, his family is getting ready for bed. His mother, Marla, has curled her tail beside his little sister, Nella. His father, Tuck, is already yawning, and his grandpa, Brindle, has closed one eye and then the other.

“They should see the moon from here,” Bodie whispers. The hollow is tucked between two rocky hills, where the moon is hidden from view. “I’ll bring it to them.”

He bends over the puddle and dips in both hands. The water ripples. The moon breaks into wiggly pieces, and Bodie’s hands come up wet but empty.

“Maybe I need a little scoop,” he says.

He finds a broad green leaf and lowers it carefully into the water. The moon appears on the leaf, round and bright. Bodie lifts it ever so slowly.

But the water runs off the leaf. The moon slips away, leaving only a few drops behind.

Bodie looks at the puddle. Its surface settles. There is the moon again, smooth and whole.

He tries one more time with a curled piece of bark. It floats, and the moon sits on it like a tiny lamp. Bodie nudges the bark toward the edge.

The bark bumps a stone. A little wave rolls across the puddle, and the moon disappears once more.

From the hollow comes a sleepy call. “Bodie? Are you coming to bed?”

“Soon!” he answers. He looks from the puddle to the dark opening in the hills. His family is missing the loveliest sight in the valley, and every time he tries to carry it, it vanishes.

Bodie sits beside the water. He watches the ripples fade, one after another. The moon waits quietly in the middle. Bodie’s tail rests still in the grass, and he begins to wonder if there is another way to share it.

Bodie watches until the last ripple disappears. The puddle becomes smooth again, and the moon returns, bright and round. He leans close, but this time he keeps his hands to himself.

“Oh,” he says. “The moon comes back when the water is still.”

He looks toward the hollow. Then he looks at the puddle. He cannot carry the moon home, but his family can come to see it.

Bodie stands and walks back through the grass. His feet make little thumps on the soft ground. At the hollow, he peeks inside.

“Is the moon still there?” Nella asks, rubbing one eye.

“It’s in the puddle,” Bodie tells her. “I tried to bring it here, but it keeps disappearing. Then I figured it out. We can go to it!”

Tuck lifts his head. “A short moon walk?”

“A very short one,” Bodie says. “And the path is easy.”

Marla rises, careful not to bump Nella. Brindle opens both eyes. “I can walk slowly,” he says, and stands with a small, satisfied grunt.

They follow Bodie from the hollow. He walks at the front, choosing the flat places between clumps of grass. The family moves quietly beneath the moonlit sky. Nella stays close to her mother, and Brindle takes his time.

At the puddle, Bodie stops them a few steps from the edge.

“Let’s wait,” he whispers. “We don’t want to make waves.”

They stand still. For a moment, there is only the faint chirp of crickets and the rustle of grass. A little breeze brushes the water, then moves on. The small ripples smooth away.

The moon appears in the puddle again. It lies there like a bright, round window into the sky.

Nella’s mouth opens in a quiet O. “It’s right down there!”

“Not down there,” says Brindle, smiling. “And up there, too.”

Bodie looks from the real moon to its reflection. His family can see both at once. He has brought them no piece of moon to hold, but he has led them to the place where its light gathers on the water.

Marla leans close to Bodie. “You helped us find a lovely sight,” she says.

Bodie settles beside her, pleased that the puddle is still and everyone is there to see it.

For a while, nobody says anything. The family watches the moon’s reflection lie across the quiet puddle. The water holds the pale hills, the dark grass, and the round moon above them. When Nella shifts her feet, tiny ripples spread out. The moon stretches into a wavy line, then gathers itself back into a circle.

“It came back,” Nella whispers.

“It likes a quiet puddle,” Bodie says.

Tuck gives a low, sleepy chuckle. “Then we’ll give it one.”

They sit together on the grassy bank. Brindle tells them how he once saw a puddle reflect a whole flock of birds, though the birds were flying far overhead. Nella asks if the moon can see them from the water. Marla says maybe it can see them from both places.

Bodie watches his family’s faces in the moonlight. He had wanted to bring the moon to their hollow, but the moon is loveliest when everyone gathers around it together. That feels like a good thing to know.

One by one, the yawns begin. First Tuck’s, wide as a cave. Then Nella’s, small and squeaky. Brindle’s yawn comes last, and it makes Marla laugh softly.

“Bedtime,” she says.

Bodie stands and waits while his family rises. They leave the puddle just as they found it, calm and bright beneath the open sky. On the walk back, nobody hurries. Their feet make a slow, familiar path through the grass.

At the hollow, Tuck settles near the entrance. Marla curls beside Nella, and Brindle finds his warm place against the rock wall. Bodie lies close to his sister, with his sturdy tail tucked safely beside him.

From the hollow, the puddle is hidden again. But Bodie remembers the moon resting in the water, and the way his family gathered around to see it. He remembers Nella’s amazed little O and Brindle’s quiet smile.

Outside, the moon keeps its watch over the valley. Inside, the dinosaurs grow still, carrying the moonlit view with them in their thoughts as the night settles around their sleeping hollow.