Penny Chihuahua's Shadow Jar Penny Chihuahua woke early.
Good morning,
Good morning,
She whispered,
Stretching her toes one by one,
Quite a task considering there's eighteen of them.
With two tiny paws,
She reached for her shadow jar and began the polishing ritual.
One little huff of breath,
Three careful circles with her high forehead,
And a final proud nod.
Today,
I'll collect enough shadows to keep the sun forever.
Penny straightened her bedspread with military precision,
Puffed her pillow twice for luck,
Checked her reflection in the window,
And marched out the door with great purpose.
On the garden wall,
Her friend Maple Cricket was already lined up with his camera.
Click,
Click,
Click,
Snap after snap of the sunrise.
Morning,
Penny,
Maple called without looking up.
Click,
Click,
Click,
Another perfect shot for the collection.
Penny tilted her shadow jar proudly,
Polishing the smudge with her high brow until it gleamed.
I'm collecting shadows.
They are proof the sun is real.
When the sun disappears,
I'll still have them.
Maple grinned,
Fiddling with his camera strap.
And I'll still have this sunrise when it's gone.
Cosmos,
The garden wall,
Who only reveals his name on a Wednesday,
Sighed,
Isn't warmth enough.
But no one heard.
Down the path,
Penny crouched low and tugged at the shadow of a corn bush.
She gave three tidy tugs,
Lined the edges up neatly,
And stuffed it into her shadow jar with a satisfied nod.
Next came Scarecrow.
She tried to fold its lanky shadow just so,
But it wriggled floppy and crooked.
Penny nearly toppled backwards as she shoved it in,
Muttering,
Honestly,
Some shadows have no discipline.
Finally,
In the meadow,
She spotted the grandest shadow of them all.
The huge,
Swaying shape of Elephant.
Oh,
Excuse me,
Penny said,
Tugging politely at the shadow.
Elephant peered down,
Puzzled.
Oh,
Little Penny,
Why drag shadows around?
They only exist because the sun already loves you.
Penny frowned,
Her ears twitching.
She didn't quite understand,
But her heart felt a wobble.
Still,
She pulled,
She strained,
She oomphed and puffed until Elephant's shadow heaved and tumbled into her shadow jar,
Thick as spilled ink.
Her tiny knees ached as she plopped onto the grass.
The shadow jar throbbed in her lap.
The day was slipping away.
She watched as Scarecrow's shadow pressed its mouth to the glass,
Shaped like a small O,
As if surprised at being kept.
And before Penny could think,
Before she could even decide,
Her tiny paws twisted the lid,
Pop!
All her shadows erupted upward,
Swirling,
Dissolving like whispers into the air.
The shadow jar lay empty,
Light as breath.
Penny's heart thumped.
I've lost all my proof.
What if the sun disappears forever?
Maple lowered his camera.
For once,
He hadn't clicked.
Look,
He whispered.
The evening sky burned with colors neither shadow jar nor camera could ever catch.
Deep violet,
Blazing orange,
Streaks of rose.
For the first time,
Penny didn't reach for proof and Maple didn't reach for a picture.
They just stood there,
Letting the sun spill across them.
That night,
Penny skipped home.
Look,
Mum,
She said.
No treasures to share.
Her mother smiled.
Then share your day.
Tell me your story.
So Penny told her everything.
The shadows,
The elephant,
The shadow jar,
The sunset she finally saw.
Her mum's eyes glistened brighter than glass.
And Penny realized,
Sometimes the best gift is what you notice when you stop collecting proof.
