"Hello Mr.Moon", said Emma, straining her head back, twiddling the red bow that adorned her checkered purple dress.
"Hello", bellowed the Moon in his soft, gentle voice, a broad smile across his face.
"I brought you some of my birthday cake, said Emma, holding up a paper plate smothered in chocolate sponge cake. "It is yummy!", she said convincingly.
"Dearest Emma, you are such a kind, thoughtful child", replied the Moon, "As much as I would love to taste your birthday cake, I cannot. For I am so much further away than you realise. You eat my share."
"Suit yourself", replied Emma, making herself comfortable on the balcony ledge. The doors that lead back towards the lights of the house, carried the soft whispers of merry folk, laughter and the sound of a party band, jovial and care-free.
The Moon smiled to himself. Proudly he shone. Even amongst so many of Emma's wondrous and dearest friends, Emma chose to spend her time with the Moon on her 8th birthday.
Emma gleefully swallowed another piece of the cake, savouring the various layers of chocolate icing.
"Mr.Moon", said Emma, raising her head to the moon again, one leg swinging aimlessly into the night sky.
"Yes Emma?", replied the Moon.
"I love you", declared Emma.
The Moon blushed a rosey red. "Why thank you Emma!"
"Yes, I do", said Emma. "I love Mr.Sun too". The Moon stopped wallowing in self-pity and strained his ears. "Did you say that you 'loved' Mr.Sun?"
"Yes", said Emma simply. "I love Mr.Sun."
"Well", started the Moon and began to mumble to himself in disapproval. But Emma continued. oblivious to the Moon's comments. "The Sun is sooooooo beautiful", said Emma, "...and warm, and golden and..."
"Well hold on there Emma!", said the Moon, quite beside himself, "Do you not love the cooling, calmness of the night. The sound of the owl and the cricket? The soft illumination that I give?"
"Well, of course", said Emma, "I love that very, very much". The Moon cheered up immediately. Emma continued. "But I also love the flowers that blossom, the sound of morning bird song and welcoming in the new day."
"Well I would be careful of that Mr.Sun!", blurted the Moon, "I've heard stories about him! How in the prairies fires start and how the rivers dry up. Why! Just the other day Miss Sophie was telling me how miserable she was, as she had got sun-burnt and had not spent not more than fifteen minutes in the sun."
Emma eyed the Moon thoughtfully as she scoffed the last mouthful of chocolate cake from the plate. She squinted her eyes disapprovingly at the Moon, recollecting how Miss Sophie De La Courre of Third Avenue was known to exagerate her stories. "Mr.Moon, have you ever met Mr.Sun?"
"Well...", said the Moon clearing his throat. "I cannot say that I have had the opportunity to be introduced to Mr.Sun. It seems that whenever I enquire about his whereabouts, he is out of town." Emma looked thoughtfully at the Moon.
Did he know? Had anyone told him the truth about Mr.Sun? That if it were not for Mr.Sun, Mr.Moon would not exist? She thought about telling him for a moment. Instead she rose from the balcony floor carrying the paper plate with her. As she reached for the doors that lead to the lights of the house, she turned around hand on one hip, her head to one side.
"Good Night Mr. Moon I love you." The Moon gave a broad smile. Thank God Emma had forgotten that silly Mr.Sun. "Good Night precious Emma!", said the Moon with intended grace. Emma smiled, realising that the Moon knew no better.
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~ It is the sacrifice of others that defines our quality of life ~
Created from the 
of Whitehawk
