Taro's Perfect Sunbeam

Taro the purple sloth was looking for the perfect place to nap.

Not a good place. Not a pretty-good place.

The perfect place.

He had been looking since lunch.

He checked the moss under the Old Bridge. Too damp. He checked the flat rock by the stream. Too loud. He checked a very nice branch, hung underneath it for a while, and decided it was almost right — which is not the same thing at all.

And then he saw it.

A patch of afternoon sun, lying on a bed of green moss, right in the middle of the Great Clearing. It was gold. It was warm. It was exactly the right size for one sloth.

"There," said Taro.

And he set off toward it.

Slooowly.

Taro does not hurry. Hurrying is for people who have not finished thinking.

He crossed the clearing one careful step at a time. He noticed a beetle, and watched it for a bit. He noticed the way the leaves turned over in the wind. He noticed that the wind smelled like rain somewhere far away.

At last he reached the moss.

The sun was gone.

Not gone gone. It had slid over to the roots of the big tree, and it was lying there in the grass, warm and gold and perfect, without him.

"Hm," said Taro.

He walked to the roots.

By the time he got there, the sun had moved again.

He walked to where it was.

It moved.

He walked to where it was.

It moved.

Taro sat down in the cold grey shade and thought about this. It took a while, because Taro thinks all the way to the end.

The sun was not going to wait for him.

And he was not going to hurry.

Thump thump thump thump THUMP.

Jackfroot the yellow jackrabbit came over the hill at top speed, which is the only speed Jackfroot has.

"TARO! What are you doing? Are you napping? You look like you're napping. Are you sad? You look a little bit sad."

"I am sitting in the shade," said Taro.

"Why?"

"Because the sun keeps leaving."

Jackfroot looked at the sun. He looked at Taro. He looked at the sun again.

"I could carry you," he said.

"You could."

"I could carry you SO fast."

"You could." Taro thought about it, all the way to the end. "But then I would have to hold on. And I cannot nap while I am holding on."

Jackfroot's ears drooped.

Then Taro said, "Jackfroot. Can you run?"

"CAN I RUN?"

"Then don't move me," said Taro. "Move the bed."

Jackfroot blinked.

And then his whole face lit up.

He scooped up a great armful of soft green moss and held it in front of him like an extremely silly hat.

"Where?" he said, bouncing. "Where do I put it? Here? Over there? Tell me where!"

Now, here is the thing about Taro.

He had been watching that patch of sun since lunchtime. Slowly. Carefully. All the way to the end. He knew where it had been. He knew how fast it was going. And he knew exactly where it was going next.

"Not where it is," said Taro. "Where it will be. Under the crooked branch. In a little while."

Thump thump thump thump.

Jackfroot ran. He laid the moss down under the crooked branch, in a patch of plain grey shade, and stepped back, and looked at it, and looked at Taro.

"There's no sun here," he said.

"Wait," said Taro.

And he started walking. Slooowly.

The shade slid off the crooked branch. A thin gold line crept across the grass, and spread, and warmed, until the whole bed of moss was glowing.

Taro arrived at exactly the same moment the sunlight did.

He lay down.

"Ohhhh," said Taro.

Jackfroot flopped onto the moss beside him, out of breath, ears flat, grinning at the sky.

"That," he panted, "was the best running I have ever done."

"Mm," said Taro.

By the time he thought of something else to say, Jackfroot was already asleep.

So Taro closed his eyes too.

And a long while later the sun slid quietly off the moss and went on across the Great Clearing without them — and neither one of them minded even a little bit.