Page 53

“Oh.”

Mom’s smile softens.

“They say there was once a wanderer who crossed the mountains every winter, searching for a place to call home.”

I listen carefully as the snow continues falling gently around us.

“The winters grew colder every year. So cold that people stopped opening their doors to strangers.”

“But that’s mean.”

“It is.”

I frown, and Mom continues.

“The wanderer walked for many years. Through storms. Through darkness. Through snow so deep it swallowed entire roads.”

“Did the wanderer ever get lonely?”

Her expression turns thoughtful.

“Very lonely.”

That makes my chest hurt.

I don’t like being lonely.

“Then one night, during the coldest winter anyone can remember, the wanderer gets lost in a blizzard.”

I imagine it immediately.

A man alone in the cold with nowhere to go.

“The harsh wind steals every path. The snow hides every landmark,” Mom whispers. “He can’t see where he’s going. He’s very lost.”

“What happens next?”

Mom looks toward the moon hanging above us.

“They say the Moon sees him struggling in the storm.”

I follow her gaze.

“The Moon?”

She nods.

“She watches him wander alone for years.”

“Why doesn’t she help him sooner?”

Mom smiles.

“I think she’s waiting until he’s ready to be found.”

I consider that for a moment.

“The Moon feels sorry for him,” Mom continues. “So she sends her beautiful light down to Earth to guide him.”