She knelt in front of her little one, the child’s eyes wide with the unknown. And she knew that life’s resonance was shifting in this moment when her child was going to be away from her in the care of another. She told her child to be brave. What is brave? the child asked, eyes still wide pools of wonder. Brave is to do the thing that scares you, the thing that excites you, the thing that makes you not want to grow up. You do the thing anyway. And you do it with joy and gratitude. Do you understand? the Mother asked. The child nodded and looked small to her. She pulled the little one into her arms and the child held tight. No matter what, you make me proud, the Mother said and breathed in the child’s smell. And the child stepped back and took the Mother’s face in small hands. Oh, Mommy, the child murmured – in empathy? – eyes filling with a determination that did not fade when the door opened. Nor did it shrink when a great brown bear, walking on two legs, appeared in the doorway and beckoned the children to enter. Inside, her child looked back once as the bear gently laid a great paw across her back to guide her and the other children through a grassy meadow lined with majestic firs. And before the door closed, she saw the child and the bear silhouetted against the giant, yellow moon and the shapes of children flitting about with bright streamers in one hand and lanterns in the other.