Lira's blanket lifts off the bedpost like a sail. She floats past her posters and stuffed bear, drifting toward the open window. The moon hangs low and huge, glowing like a warm night-light.
She pushes through a thick cloud, but it bounces her back with a soft poof. She tumbles sideways and lands on a second cloud that gives way. The third cloud catches her gently and holds.
A silver trail of moonlight stretches across the sky like a path. Lira follows it, floating faster now, past sleeping birds and over a dark forest.
The trail leads her past the sleeping birds and over the dark forest. A yellow light flickers at the end of the path — Memaw's kitchen window.
Lira lands on the porch with a light tap. The screen door opens before she knocks. Memaw stands there in a flour-dusted apron, holding a plate of warm cookies. I knew you'd come.
Lira sits at the kitchen table beside Memaw. The cookies smell like cinnamon and brown sugar. The plate is empty except for one crumb.
Memaw wraps both of them in a quilt. Her arms stay around Lira long after. The moon slides across the sky and dips below the trees.
The moon slides across the sky and dips below the trees. The kitchen light stays on.