Every evening, when the fern shadows stretched across the garden, Milo looked up for his favorite friend.
“Hello, Moon,” he said.
The moon never answered in words. But it shone on his little round nose, and that seemed like a very nice hello.
Milo was a small dinosaur with soft green scales and a tail that always knocked over his water cup. He could reach the lowest branch of the plum tree. He could reach the smooth stone beside the pond. He could not reach the moon.
One evening, he decided to try.
He stood on his tiptoes. His tail wobbled. The moon stayed far away.
He climbed onto the smooth stone and stretched both tiny arms. A frog watched from the pond.
“Are you picking a plum?” asked the frog.
“I’m saying hello to the moon,” said Milo. “A proper hello. Up close.”
The frog looked at the sky, then at Milo’s little arms.
“Perhaps the plum tree is taller,” she suggested.
Milo found the low branch and carefully climbed up. From there he could see the garden gate, the path beyond it, and his mother’s round head at the kitchen window.
The moon still looked just as far away.
“Oh,” said Milo.
He climbed down and sat beside the pond. For a while, he watched a leaf turn slow circles on the water.
Then something bright appeared between the ripples.
“Moon!” he whispered.
There it was, round and silver, floating in his little pond. Milo leaned closer. The silver circle wiggled. He leaned back. It settled again.
“You’ve come to visit,” he said.
His mother came down the path with a blanket tucked under one arm.
“What have you found?” she asked.
“The moon in the water. I tried to visit it, but it was too far away. So it came here.”
His mother sat beside him. “That’s its reflection,” she said. “The pond is showing you a picture of the moon.”
Milo thought about that. He looked up at the sky, then down at the water.
“Does that mean it can see me?”
“The moon doesn’t have eyes,” said his mother. “But its light can reach us. Even all the way from there.”
They watched the silver circle together. A breeze moved through the ferns. The frog made a small, comfortable plop.
Milo’s shoulders relaxed.
“Maybe I don’t have to touch it,” he said. “Maybe I can just say hello.”
His mother wrapped the blanket around them both.
“That sounds like a lovely idea.”
When Milo went to bed, moonlight lay across the floor like a pale little path. He set his water cup somewhere his tail couldn’t reach it, tucked his nose under the quilt, and looked through the window.
“Good night, Moon,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
The moon shone softly on his little round nose.
And that seemed like a very nice good night.
