Moonie's Night Off

Moonie was tired.

Moonies, in general, are tired. It comes with the job — being up all night every night, watching kids fall asleep one window at a time. But this Moonie was extra-tired. She had been working the bedtime shift for as long as anyone could remember, and tonight, she decided, she needed a night off.

She floated down to find Stella.

"Stella," she said. "I need a night off."

Stella thought about this. "Who'll do the bedtime shift?"

"You will," said Moonie. "If that's all right."

Stella considered it for about three seconds. "All right," she said. "Go nap."

So Moonie tucked herself behind a cloud and fell, for the first time in centuries, sound asleep.

Stella, meanwhile, took up the post.

She was smaller than Moonie. She knew this. But she was also, she figured, bright enough — and besides, the job didn't really require size. It required attention. It required being there. It required watching kids fall asleep one window at a time.

Stella did her best.

She floated up to where Moonie usually sits. She steadied herself. She looked down at the small lit windows of the small quiet town. She picked one — a kid in striped pyjamas reading a book under the covers with a flashlight — and watched.

The kid yawned. The kid finished the chapter. The kid closed the book. The kid turned off the flashlight. The kid fell asleep.

Stella moved on to the next window.

By morning, every kid in every town in the world had fallen asleep — not because of Moonie, this time, but because of Stella, who had stood in for one quiet night.

Moonie woke up behind her cloud, blinked twice, and stretched.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"Fine," said Stella. "It's a nice job."

Moonie smiled. "It is, isn't it."

And the next night, of course, Moonie was back at her post. Stella went back to twinkling. But every now and then, on a night when Moonie needs a rest, Stella covers the shift — and nobody, on the ground below, knows the difference.

Sweet dreams. The night is in good hands.