The ceramic sleepy moon nightlight from his childhood softly illuminated the small bedroom that had also once been his, and Harper looked up, her tail still drumming on the floor as she wriggled onto her back expectantly. Micah knelt down to scratch her belly and whispered, “You’re silly, you know that?” The soft kindness in his voice made her tail thump harder. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. After he’d asked his parents if he and Charlotte could move back home until he got his bearings again, his mom had immediately begun transforming his old room into one that was perfect for a little girl; and she’d claimed, after raising two boys, she’d loved every minute! Ocean blue walls had been painted a warm, sunny yellow; the windows had been cleaned to a sparkle, and the faded John Deere curtains had been washed, pressed, and tucked away; in their place were hung crisp new gingham curtains that were held open with playful Winnie-the-Pooh pull-backs; on the bed was a matching quilt and sham; other furnishings included a small white bureau and mirror, a child’s refurbished wooden desk, and, in the corner, a small rocking chair that his dad had given a fresh coat of green paint—and sitting in the chair was Winnie himself.
