My Letter to the Moon

My Letter to the Moon

I have always wondered if it was true. Did the cow really jump over you? When I was little, I believed everything the nursery rhymes told me. The cat played the fiddle. The dish ran away with the spoon. The moon smiled as the cow leapt across the sky. I never doubted it. In my dreams, it was all real.

Now, when I look back, I see that rhyme as more than a child’s verse. It is a whisper of something else, something only the moon could answer. The moon, who has seen every age, every foolish wish, every secret kept in the dark. So I ask again, was it true? Did she jump over you, or was that only a story made to keep children calm before sleep?

Last night I dreamed of that cow again. She was white and calm, her eyes wide and knowing. She stood in a field that shimmered like glass, the grass silver with dew. The moon hung low, close enough to touch. I could feel the cold shine of it on my skin. Then the cow bent her knees, lifted her head, and jumped. Not in a clumsy way, not like a beast, but like something ancient remembering how to fly. Her hooves left the ground, and she rose higher, past the clouds, into the silver calm.

When she cleared the rim of the moon, I saw her shadow move across its face. It wasn’t a lie after all. Not in dreams. Not in the part of the mind that still belongs to childhood.

The moon looked down and smiled at me. Not the wide, grinning face from the rhyme, but a gentler one. It seemed to say, “Everything that has been imagined once, has happened somewhere.” I woke with that line echoing in me. It felt true. So I wrote this, a kind of letter, a question to the old watcher in the sky. Were you there that night when the rhyme was born? Did you see her leap? Did the fiddle sing, did the dish and spoon really run away, did the stars hold their breath as she soared? Or are these things we keep alive with our own need for wonder?

Sometimes, I think the moon carries every story we’ve ever told. It holds the laughter of children, the cries of the lost, the quiet prayers of the hopeful. Perhaps that’s why it feels so alive, why it listens when we talk.If you ask me whether the cow jumped over the moon, I will say yes. Because I have seen it in dreams too clear to deny. I have felt the hush of the night when magic passes through. I have seen the moon waiting, proud of what it has inspired.

Maybe that is the truth. Not the leap itself, but the belief that it could happen. That we can lift from the ground, rise past reason, and reach something bright. So I keep watching. I still look up, the same as when I was small. The moon still follows me home. And I still whisper my questions to it, knowing it will never answer with words. It doesn’t need to. It shines, and in that light I already know. Yes, it was true. In my dreams, it was always true. Imagination is a truly wonderful thing. My the moon be there for us all, my she guide us for all our life. Somtimes we’ll all need guidenice from above. Thnk you for reading my little story god bless you all from this day forwards.