Graham and the Moon in the Water

Graham looked up at the moon above the hill and had a very bright idea. “Grandma needs a moon in her cave!” he said.

Graham was a young troll with moss-green hair and round ears that poked through his woolly cap. His grandmother’s cave sat halfway up the hillside, where a crooked pine leaned over the entrance. Inside, Grandma’s little reading corner was dark. At night, she usually pulled the heavy door nearly shut to keep out the chill, and from her corner she couldn’t see the sky. She had told Graham she missed seeing the moon while she mended her socks.

“I’ll bring you some moonlight,” Graham had promised.

Now he stood by the quiet lake below the hillside caves. The evening was clear, and the moon laid a bright, round picture across the water. Graham held a small glass jar in both hands. The little jar looked roomy enough to hold the bright round picture.

He dipped the jar into the lake.

The water swished in. The moon picture broke into long, wobbly pieces. When Graham lifted the jar, it held only ordinary water. The moon was still up above, looking down at him.

“Hmm,” Graham said. “Maybe I scooped too fast.”

He tried again, moving slowly. The jar touched the water, and little rings spread out from its rim. The moon’s picture split apart once more.

A frog sitting on a flat stone gave a quiet plip.

“Did you see that?” Graham asked.

The frog blinked. “I saw water,” it said. “And a moon up there.”

Graham looked from the jar to the lake. He could see the moon on the water, but the picture would not stay still when he touched it. He tried carrying a little water in his cupped hands. The moonlight slipped between his fingers and vanished into the lake.

On the hillside, a small square of warm light showed at Grandma’s cave. Graham imagined her waiting with her mending basket.

Graham tucked the empty jar against his chest and set off along the shore, thinking hard about what to try next. The lake lapped at the stones, and reeds whispered farther down the bank. He watched the water as he went, searching for a place where the moon could hold still.

Graham followed the reeds to a little nook at the lake’s edge. They grew close together there, making a small green wall against the breeze. Behind them lay a tiny sheltered pool, no bigger than Grandma’s washbasin.

The pool was still. The moon rested in it, round and clear, with the reeds making a dark frame around its silver face.

Graham knelt beside it. He lowered the jar, but stopped just before it touched the water. The moon stayed whole.

Then he remembered why he had come. Grandma needed the moon in her cave. He could not carry its picture without breaking it. But perhaps he could bring Grandma to the picture instead.

Graham hurried up the hillside, taking care on the path. At Grandma’s door, he tapped gently.

“Is the moon ready?” Grandma asked as she opened it.

“I found it,” Graham said. “But it won’t fit in my jar. Will you come see?”

Grandma wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. “I’d love to.”

Together they walked down to the lake. Graham held out his hand where the path grew stony, and Grandma held his mittened fingers. At the sheltered pool, he showed her the moon resting between the reeds.

“Oh, Graham,” she whispered. “You found a lovely place.”

They sat side by side on a broad, smooth rock. The reeds kept the breeze away, and the pool stayed quiet. The moon’s reflection lay on the water without a ripple. Graham leaned close, but did not touch it. Grandma leaned close, too.

They sat quietly together. A little moth fluttered past Grandma’s shawl, and the frog watched from its stone. Above the hill, the moon shone down on the lake and the caves. In the pool, its picture seemed close enough to visit.

“Now I have a moon for my cave,” Grandma said.

Graham looked at her face in the moonlit water. “We can sit here whenever you want.”

Grandma gave his hand a squeeze. “That is even better than a jarful.”

They stayed until the night air cooled around their ears. Then Graham stood and offered Grandma his arm. The path home waited above them, clear beneath the moon.

Graham and Grandma climbed the hillside together. He walked on the outside of the path, where the stones were a little uneven, and Grandma rested one hand on his arm. The moon shone over their heads, and its light fell across the way in pale patches.

At the crooked pine, Grandma paused to look back. The lake lay quiet below, and the reeds gathered around the tiny pool. From the hill, Graham could not see the moon’s picture there, but he remembered how clearly it had rested in the water.

“Do you think the frog is still watching it?” Grandma asked.

“I’m sure he is,” Graham said. “He looked like he had an important job.”

Grandma chuckled, and Graham did, too. Their laughter traveled only a little way before the night folded it into the stillness.

At the cave, Grandma hung her shawl on a wooden peg. Graham set the empty jar beside the door. It had not carried moonlight, but it had helped him find a place to share it.

Grandma sat in her reading corner, where her basket of socks waited. Graham settled beside her on a cushion. The cave was quiet and familiar, with smooth stones underfoot and the earthy smell of the hillside around them. Tonight, Grandma propped the heavy door wide open instead of pulling it nearly shut against the chill. From her corner, they could see a piece of the moon above the lake.

Grandma picked up a blue sock and began to mend it. “I can see the moon from here,” she said.

Graham smiled. He could not bring the moon indoors, but he could sit with Grandma while it shone outside. That felt like a good kind of moonlight.

Soon Grandma put away her needle and yarn. She gave Graham a warm hug, and he tucked his cap beneath one arm. Together they looked once more through the doorway. The moon kept shining over the hillside, bright above the quiet lake.

“Good night, Graham,” Grandma said.

“Good night, Grandma.”

Graham walked to his little cave nearby, with the moon making a calm path along the ground. Behind him, Grandma settled beneath her blanket. She pulled the door nearly shut against the night chill, and the moon stayed outside, shining over the sleeping hillside.