The Moon Who Lost a Button

High above the sleeping town, the moon paused in the sky. She looked down at her soft silver coat, all shimmery and warm, and she gasped a tiny gasp. One of her tiny golden buttons was missing.

The moon checked her pockets. She checked the cuffs of her long silver sleeves. She even checked behind her ear, which is where she sometimes tucked things. But the little golden button was nowhere at all.

So the moon began to search. She drifted very slowly, so as not to wake anyone below. She peered into the tops of trees where owls were just settling in. She peeked between the soft folds of the clouds.

A little grey owl, who was combing her feathers on a branch, looked up and blinked. Hello, Moon, she said. You look worried tonight. The moon nodded, and told the owl about her missing button.

Oh, we shall find it together, said the owl. Two pairs of eyes are always better than one, especially at night. And the owl fluffed up her wings and rose into the sky beside the moon.

First, they floated over the rooftops of the town. Every chimney sent up a thin, sleepy curl of smoke. Every window had its curtains drawn. But no button glittered on any tile or slate.

Next, they drifted along the river. The river was so still that it looked like a long silver ribbon. The moon leaned close and saw her own gentle face looking back at her. But no button lay shining on the water.

They visited the garden of a kind old baker, where the roses were tucked in for the night. They visited the pond, where the frogs had already begun to snore. Still, they did not find the button.

The moon began to feel a small, quiet worry, like a pebble in her pocket. Perhaps I have lost it forever, she said. The owl patted her softly with one wing. Not yet, dear Moon. Not yet.

Then, from an open window of a small blue house, they heard the softest sound in the world. It was a child breathing slowly, deeply, the way children breathe when they are just about to dream.

The moon and the owl peeked in, ever so gently. There, on the pillow beside the sleeping child, was something small and glimmering. It was round. It was golden. It was, of course, the moon's missing button.

How did it get here, whispered the owl. The moon smiled a tiny, understanding smile. It must have fallen while I was tucking this little one in last night. And they must have found it, and kept it safe.

The child had tucked the button into a tiny paper cup on the nightstand, the way you might keep something precious. The moon leaned very close and slipped the button gently from the cup, so as not to make a sound.

She thanked the child in a soft, silver whisper. You kept it safe, dear one. Thank you. The child smiled in their sleep, as if they had heard, though they did not open their eyes.

Back in the sky, the moon carefully stitched the button on with a thread made of starlight. The stars gathered around to watch, and the owl held the thread steady with her beak.

When it was done, the moon looked lovelier than ever, all her buttons in a row, twinkling softly. Thank you, kind owl, she said. Thank you, dear river. Thank you, dear stars.

The owl yawned and settled back onto her branch. It was a good adventure, she said. Now, sleep well, dear Moon. And she tucked her head under her wing.

The moon floated on, slower now, softer now. She looked in on every window of the town, one by one, and gave each a small silver blessing.

To the baker's cat, who was curled on a rug, goodnight. To the two brown horses in the meadow, goodnight. To the fish asleep beneath the river's silver ribbon, goodnight.

And to the little child who had kept her button safe, she gave the softest goodnight of all. Sweet dreams, dear one. Sweet, sweet dreams.

Then the moon settled into her favourite spot, right above the sleeping town, and she pulled the clouds around her like a soft grey blanket.

The whole town was tucked in. The whole sky was quiet. And the little moon closed her eyes, warm and safe, with every button in its place.