‘Hello, Moon,’ said Sun, as he watched her rise above the sea to meet him in the orange sky.
‘Hello, dear Sun. Must we always meet like this? I’d rather hoped we might run, today.’
Sun looked at Moon and smiled.
‘Running is a human thing,’ said Sun, laughing at his fanciful friend. ‘If we were to run like the busy humans do…how would we shine as beautifully as we do?’
Moon thought of this and nodded. ‘Shining is quite lovely, isn’t it. Do humans shine like us, do you think?’
‘Some do. When they stop running,’ Sun replied. ‘And when one shines, usually the one beside them shines, too. So does the next, and the next, and the next until they’ve made a whole chain of humans as bright and shining as we are, sweet Moon.’
‘Oh, how lovely!’ said Moon, as she shone silver over the sea, wondering what a chain of bright, shining humans might look like.
As Moon sat upon her hill, waiting for the tide to rise, she whispered to Sun, “Sun? What is love?”
Moon wasn’t expecting an answer. She only wanted to ask the question, because if she asked, the possibility of receiving an answer that thrilled her could exist— a question never asked, is, after all, a question never answered.
And as Moon sat upon her hill, trying to understand the question for herself, Sun’s words fell upon her like the sweetest touch of spring.
“Love is whatever it is. And that, dear Moon, is the only answer I know to give you.”