Wally and the Sleeping Bear

A star gave your sleeve a gentle tap and asked, “Do you know where the bear’s tail goes?”

You look up from the silver path beneath your feet. All around you stretches a make-believe night sky, wide as an ocean and sprinkled with stars. A little star hovers beside your shoulder. He wears a blue scarf that flaps in the sky breeze.

“I’m Wally,” he says. “I’m supposed to be part of the sleeping bear constellation, but I can’t find my place.”

You’ve heard of constellations—pictures people make by joining stars with imaginary lines. High overhead, the stars outline a great bear settling into a quiet sleep. Its nose points toward a faraway moon, and its paws tuck beneath its chin. But one part of its shape is missing.

“Come on,” you tell Wally. “We’ll find the spot together.”

A narrow ribbon of stardust curls into a path. It winds by a button-bright star, then a second with a long handle and a bowl of light. Wally floats along, trying to match each one to the bear.

“Maybe I go here!” he says, darting beside the bear’s nose.

You picture the outline. The bear’s face suddenly looks like it has a long, crooked beak.

“Not quite,” you say kindly.

Wally scoots away. “Then perhaps here!” He lands near the bear’s back. Now the bear looks like it has a lumpy hump.

You both giggle, and Wally gives a little spin. “I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re good at keeping on trying,” you say. “Let’s look carefully.”

Together, you travel around the bear’s shape. From close up, the stars seem almost alike. Some are round and bright; others are small and pale. The bear’s legs are easy to confuse with its tail, which curves behind it like a question mark.

Wally slows down. “I remember being near the tail,” he says. “But I can’t remember which stars were beside me.”

You stop on a high silver ridge and look across the whole sky. The answer may be hiding in the bear’s paws, where the stars gather close together. You point toward them, and Wally follows your finger. Together, you begin the search again.

The bear’s paws are crowded with stars. You and Wally move from one to the next, comparing their places with the picture in the sky.

“Is this one the paw?” Wally asks.

“That could be it,” you say. “But let’s check the shape.”

You line up three nearby stars in your mind. They make a crooked row, not a paw. Wally tries another set, and the bear’s outline turns into a jumble of bright dots. Its back seems to zigzag. Its legs cross in the wrong places.

Wally sinks onto the stardust path. “I keep making the bear look muddled.”

The sky breeze ruffles his blue scarf. You could hurry and pick any empty spot, but you remember what grown-ups do with puzzles: they stop, look at the whole picture, and search for a clue.

“Let’s not guess,” you tell him. “Let’s find something that belongs together.”

You trace the bear’s outline with one finger, starting at its nose and moving past its tucked paws. Near the edge of one paw, three stars sit close together. One is above, and two are below, making a small triangle. Its point faces the start of the bear’s curved tail.

“Wally, look!” you say. “Those three stars make a little paw mark—and the point leads right toward the tail.”

Wally’s eyes widen. He floats nearer, then turns slowly, remembering.

“I know this!” he says. “I used to sit in the first empty space beyond the triangle’s point, right where the bear’s tail begins to curve. That’s the gap!”

You follow the bear’s tail with your finger. Just beyond the triangle, the curve begins between two bright stars. A small dark gap waits there, unlike the other spaces nearby.

“That must be your place,” you say.

Wally starts toward it, but the stars are so close together that he almost slips past the gap. You hold out your hand like a little bridge.

“This way,” you guide him. “Past the triangle. Now follow the tail.”

Wally steadies himself and moves one careful inch at a time. You point to the space between the two bright stars. He checks that the tail curves away from the paw, then settles into the gap.

The bear’s outline comes clear at once. Its paws tuck neatly beneath its chin, its back curves around, and its tail sweeps beside Wally. The sleepy bear looks whole at last.

“We found it!” Wally whispers.

You grin up at the sky. “We found it together.”

For a little while, you and Wally simply look at the bear. Its shape is easy to see now, from the rounded tip of its nose to the curve of its tail. The small triangle beside its paw marks the place where your careful search began.

Wally floats beside you, no longer wandering. “I can see the whole picture,” he says. “I was looking at each star by itself.”

“And now?” you ask.

“Now I can see how they belong together.”

The sky seems larger when you know the paths between its stars. You follow the bear’s outline with your eyes, and Wally follows it with a quiet hum. At the tail, the line turns in a graceful curl. You trace the curve in the air, and Wally copies your finger with a little loop.

“You make a good sky explorer,” he says.

“You make a good missing star,” you reply.

Wally laughs, a small sound like a spoon tapping a glass. The bear keeps its peaceful shape overhead, while faraway stars hold their places in the dark. Nothing needs fixing now. There is no hurry to go anywhere.

A broad cloud floats nearby, white as a pillow in the night. It has a hollow in the middle where you can sit comfortably. You and Wally follow the bear’s curved tail back along the stardust path until you reach the cloud.

You settle into its cushiony center. Wally rests on the edge beside you, his blue scarf folded under his chin. The cloud carries you gently through the sky, but you do not need to steer. The bear shines overhead like a quiet goodnight sign.

After a while, Wally lifts his head. “I should get back to my place,” he says.

You wave as he glides from the cloud and follows the tail’s curve to the gap beside the triangle. He settles between the two bright stars, and the bear’s outline shines whole again.

You look at the little triangle by its paw, then at Wally, snug in his proper place. The stars are no longer a muddle. They make a picture you know how to find again.

The cloud cradles you beneath the sleeping bear, and the night holds still around you as your eyes grow heavy.