One Soft Thought, One Small Leaf

Shhh, shhh, went the clouds. They slid past the round window of Sami's little house, and the moon shone up through them from far below, slow and round and white. The window was round like a soap bubble, and the night was quiet in it. Sami was a baby elephant, small and warm, with ears like two soft pancakes. That night Sami's ears went wibble, wibble, wibble.

Sami had been asleep. Then a dream came. The dream was muddly, like a picture drawn with a wet finger, and it woke Sami up in the middle of the night. Sami sat up, and Sami's little trunk went sniff, sniff, sniff.

"Mama," said Sami. "A dream came, and it was muddly." Mama's trunk came through the dark and found Sami's cheek. "I'm here," she said. "Snuggle close to me, little one."

Sami snuggled into Mama's warm side. The blanket came up to Sami's chin, and it smelled of warm milk and fresh laundry. "Is the moon still there?" asked Sami. "It's still there," said Mama. "It stayed up all night, just in case. Let's play the soft-thought game, you and me."

"When a muddly dream comes," said Mama, "we give it a soft thought to hold instead." She tapped the little pot on the window sill. In the pot was Sami's cloudflower, one green stem and one small leaf. Every night Sami carried a little cup of water to it and said, "Goodnight, flower." "Every soft thought makes it grow one new leaf," said Mama.

Sami thought and thought. "Warm milk," said Sami. Pop. A tiny new leaf uncurled from the stem, pale green and curled at the tip. "One soft thought, one small leaf," said Mama. "Say it with me."

"One soft thought, one small leaf," said Sami and Mama together.

"Fresh laundry," said Sami. "The blanket smells of it." Pop. Another leaf came out, greener than the first. "One soft thought, one small leaf," said Sami and Mama.

Sami's ears stopped going wibble. They went floaty instead, like two warm clouds. "My dream isn't muddly anymore," said Sami. "It went soft."

"One more," said Mama. Sami looked out of the round window. There was the moon. There were the clouds. And far off on the next hill, a little bell went ting, ting, ting. It was Mina, the little mist sheep, walking home. "Mina," said Sami. "And her bell."

Pop. A third leaf uncurled for Mina. "One soft thought, one small leaf," said Sami and Mama, quiet as the clouds.

"One more," said Mama. "The best one." Sami looked at the moon and the soft gray clouds and the sky far below. "The sunrise," said Sami. "Tomorrow. Slow and pink, all the way up over the hill."

Pop. A fourth leaf came out, small and steady, holding on to the sill. "One soft thought, one small leaf," said Sami and Mama, soft as the clouds. Shhh, shhh.

Sami yawned. It was a long, slow yawn, like a little door opening and closing. "Will my flower grow while I sleep?" asked Sami.

"It grows slow," said Mama. "Slow is how it grows strong. And when you wake up there will be one more leaf, and the sun will be up too."

Sami closed one eye. Then Sami closed the other. The room was dim and warm, and the blankets were soft. Mama hummed, low and round, and her trunk curled around Sami's back like a warm scarf.

Outside, the moon shone up through the clouds, slow and round and white. The little cloudflower stood on the sill with its four new leaves and one more folded tight, waiting for morning. Shhh, shhh, went the clouds at the window. Shhh, shhh, went the whole soft hill, breathing in and out. Sami slept, and the flower grew, a little at a time, all night long.