One hop
A girl lies in bed staring out the window.
The night sky stretches wide in front of her, framed within the tall arched window pane. A deep velvet blue stitched with stars. They blink slowly, patiently, as if they’ve been waiting for her to notice them.
Time loosens its grip in the quiet.
The room breathes with her.
Short inhale.
Long exhale.
For a moment, the whole world moves at the pace of her breath.
Then the door creaks.
She turns her head slowly toward the doorway. The lamp beside her bed casts a soft pool of light across the floor, but the hallway beyond it is shadow. Something moves there.
A small figure stands just inside the dark.
One hop.
Another.
He hops forward slowly, carefully, until he enters the light.
Henry.
Her face softens immediately.
“Hiiii,” she whispers.
Henry hops closer in reply. One hop. Two hop. Three hop. Four. With a gentle thump he lands beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his small weight.
He peers into her face, his whiskers twitching.
“You sweet little girl,” Henry says warmly. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come visit.”
“Has it been long?” she whispers. Her voice is soft and dreamy. “I feel like it was just a little while.”
She tilts her head.
“Did you bring me a gift? You usually do.”
Henry smiles.
Slowly, he pulls his paw from behind his back and stretches his closed fist toward her. For a moment he lets it hover there, teasing the surprise.
Then he lifts his paw above her head.
“Ready?” he asks softly.
Before she can answer, he opens his fist and dumps a shower of glitter over her curls.
Pink, lavender, teal. The colors tumble through her hair, catching the lamplight as they fall.
The girl squeals softly with laughter, shaking her head as the glitter spins around her like tiny stars breaking loose from the sky.
“I love glitter,” she whispers.
The room glows for a moment with their quiet delight.
“Henry,” she asks after a while, her voice drifting through the sparkles still floating in the air, “how long do you think you were gone?”
Henry reaches into his vest pocket and lifts a silver chain. A pocket watch slides into his paw with a soft metallic clink.
He considers it carefully.
“Two scores and five stones,” he says with great authority.
Then he leans close and presses his whiskered lips to her ear.
“But you,” he whispers, “look exactly the same as the day I left.”
The girl smiles, relieved.
“Oh good.”
He looks at her for a moment, then nods decisively.
“Are you ready for our adventure?” Henry asks.
Her hands clap together with excitement.
“Oh my goodness, yes!” she laughs. “Finally!”
Then her face falls slightly.
“Oh,” she pouts.
Henry tilts his head.
“What is it?”
“My family,” she says quietly, glancing toward the dark doorway beyond. “I don’t want them to worry that I’m gone.”
Henry chuckles softly.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “They’ll be looked after.”
Satisfied, she slips her hand into his.
Henry helps her sit up.
And something strange happens.
The heaviness she didn’t realize she was carrying disappears. The room brightens. The air feels lighter somehow, as if the world itself has taken a deep breath.
Together they step down from the bed.
Hand in paw, they walk toward the arched window.
Beyond it the night opens wide.
Fields of green stretch endlessly beneath a silver moon. Flowers burst in colors so bright they almost hum. The flowers glow faintly in the moonlight, as if the color is coming from inside them. The air smells like spring rain and fresh grass and something else—something ancient and familiar.
The girl laughs.
“Come on!” she shouts.
They begin to hop and skip together through the tall grass.
One hop.
Two skip.
Three hop.
Four.
Their silhouettes bounce lightly against the horizon.
For a long time the room remains quiet.
Then the door opens.
A young woman steps inside carrying a glass of water. She pauses when she sees the glitter scattered across the pillow.
“Mom?” she says softly.
There is no answer.
She moves closer to the bed and gently lifts the stuffed rabbit that has slipped sideways beside the old woman’s shoulder. She props it upright again, smoothing the blanket with careful hands.
Then she reaches for the woman’s wrist.
Her fingers rest there for a moment.
Still.
The young woman lets out a soft sob.
She leans down and kisses her mother’s forehead.
“I love you,” she whispers.
Outside the window, the stars continue blinking patiently in the dark.