By Bill Conley
Moral of the Story:
Nighttime may bring new sounds and shadows, but you are never alone.
Fear fades when comfort, love, and gentle truth are near.
There’s no need to be afraid of the dark—it’s simply the world resting.
Peace comes when you feel safe, loved, and tucked in tight.
In a quiet nest woven high in the
trees of Lavender Hollow, a young nightingale named Nora huddled close to her
mother.
The sky had turned deep blue, and
the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, sprinkling silver light across the
leaves.
It was bedtime.
But Nora wasn’t sleepy.
In fact, she was wide awake and
worried.
“Mama,” she whispered, “can you stay
with me a little longer?”
Mama fluffed Nora’s feathers gently.
“Of course, little one. What’s troubling you?”
Nora glanced at the woods below.
“The shadows look so big... and the wind sounds like whispering voices.”
Mama smiled softly and tucked her
wing around her daughter.
“Nighttime can feel different, can’t
it?”
Nora nodded. “It feels scary.”
Mama tilted her head, then said,
“Would you like to hear the story of the little owl who learned not to fear the
dark?”
Nora’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please.”
“Once upon a time,” Mama began,
“there was a baby owl named Ollie who lived in the same forest as us, in a
hollow just like ours. Every night, when the stars began to shine, Ollie would
grow nervous.”
“Like me?” Nora asked.
“Just like you,” Mama said with a
smile.
“Ollie didn’t like how the trees
looked when the light was gone. He didn’t like the hooting of faraway owls or
the flutter of bats overhead. He thought maybe, just maybe, the dark was hiding
things that wanted to jump out and scare him.”
“What did he do?” Nora whispered.
“Well,” Mama said, “Ollie’s Papa
came and sat with him one night. And Papa Owl said something very wise: ‘The
dark doesn’t hide scary things. It hides sleepy things.’”
Nora blinked. “Sleepy things?”
Mama nodded. “The raccoons are
resting. The deer are curled beneath trees. Even the squirrels have gone quiet.
The dark is just a soft blanket the forest pulls over itself to rest.”
“Ollie still felt unsure,” Mama
continued. “So Papa pointed to the moon. ‘Look at how the moon shines,’
he said. ‘Even when the sun sleeps, there is still light watching over us.
The stars are like tiny lanterns, reminding you that you are never truly
alone.’”
Nora snuggled deeper into Mama’s
feathers.
“I like that,” she said.
Mama kissed the top of Nora’s head.
“And then Ollie asked, ‘What if I
get scared again tomorrow night?’ And Papa Owl said, ‘Then remember
this: being scared is okay. But don’t let fear stay longer than it needs to.
You can always talk to someone you love, wrap up in your nest, and take a deep
breath. Fear grows when we feed it. But comfort grows when we speak it out loud
and let someone help.’”
“That’s a good Papa,” Nora said
softly.
“Yes,” Mama whispered. “And you have
that same comfort here.”
The wind rustled through the
branches, but it no longer sounded quite so spooky to Nora. It sounded like a
lullaby now, soft and soothing.
“Mama?” Nora asked.
“Yes, love?”
“Will the moon always shine?”
“Even when you can’t see it, it’s
still there,” Mama said. “And I’ll always be here to remind you. Every night.”
Nora yawned. Her eyes fluttered,
then opened again.
“What if I wake up and get scared in
the middle of the night?”
“Then think of Ollie the Owl. And
know your nest is warm, your world is safe, and your mama loves you more than
all the stars in the sky.”
Nora smiled. “I think I feel a
little braver now.”
Mama began to hum—a soft, swaying
tune that filled the nest with peace.
As the last golden flickers of day
disappeared, Nora’s fears gently faded too.
She thought about sleepy raccoons,
tucked-away deer, the owl’s gentle story, and the moon that never left its
post.
And wrapped in her mother’s wings,
Nora finally let herself drift into dreams.
Poem:
When shadows stretch and moonlight glows,
And nighttime winds begin to blow,
Just close your eyes and rest your head—
You’re safe and warm in your cozy bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment