Hollis Waves First — By the crooked lane, Hollis counted the last blue minutes before supper bells. One window glowed, then another, but the tall streetlamp beside him stayed black. Read the full story →
By the crooked lane, Hollis counted the last blue minutes before supper bells. One window glowed, then another, but the tall streetlamp beside him stayed black. He wanted the smallest children to cross the snow without hurrying, yet his twig hand trembled inside its mitten. The air smelled of chimney smoke and cold iron.
A soft tick-tick came from the lamp glass. Out fluttered a moth no bigger than a button, carrying a speck of light on each wing. “I can wake it,” she whispered, “but only if someone brave says hello first.” Hollis looked at the long, curving road, the quiet houses, the snowflakes turning silver. He lifted his mitten and gave one careful wave.
The lamp bloomed honey-gold. Its warmth touched the rooftops, the pine tips, and Hollis’s round cheek. Ever since that gentle evening, snowmen wave to streetlamps at dusk, so the lamplight keepers know it is safe to shine. Next time you pass a snowy lamp, see if you can spot the first brave hello in the glow.
