Where Does the Sun Go at Night?

Every evening, Rosa sat on the window seat in her grandmother's house and watched the sun go down.

She watched it turn orange. She watched it touch the tops of the trees. She watched it sink, slowly slowly, until only a thin golden line remained — and then that, too, disappeared.

And every evening, Rosa felt a tiny squeeze of worry in her chest.

Where did it go?

Was it tired? Was it sad? Would it come back?

One evening, her grandmother came and sat beside her, bringing two cups of warm milk and a biscuit to share.

"You're watching it again," said Nana.

"It looks lonely," said Rosa. "Going away like that."

Nana tilted her head. "Does it? I never thought of it that way."

"It goes all by itself," said Rosa. "Every night. Into the dark."

Nana was quiet for a moment, looking at the thin golden line. Then she said, "Shall I tell you where it's going?"

Rosa nodded.

"The sun," said Nana, in her low, warm voice, "has a very important job. The most important job in the whole world, I think."

"What job?" Rosa asked.

"It has to wake everyone else up."

Rosa frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Right now," said Nana, "on the other side of the world — on the other side of that sunset — it is morning. Children are rubbing their eyes and eating their breakfast and looking out their windows. And the sun has to be there to shine for them. To warm their cheeks. To help the flowers open and the birds start singing."

Rosa thought about this.

"So when it goes away from us," she said slowly, "it's going to someone else?"

"Exactly," said Nana. "It doesn't go into the dark. It goes toward the light — it just happens to be someone else's light, not ours."

Rosa was quiet. Outside, the last gold was fading into a deep, gentle blue. The first star appeared.

"That means," Rosa said, "that the sun is never really gone."

"Never," said Nana firmly.

"It's just busy."

"Very busy," Nana agreed. "Working its way around the whole world, checking on everyone, making sure nobody is left in the dark for too long."

Rosa looked at the sky. She thought about children on the other side of the world, just waking up, blinking in the sunshine that had been hers just a moment ago.

"It's like a present," she said. "That we pass on."

Her grandmother smiled — the deep, slow smile that Rosa loved best.

"I never thought of it that way," Nana said softly. "But yes. Exactly that."

Rosa leaned against her grandmother's warm shoulder. The sky was fully dark now, scattered with stars. The worry-squeeze in her chest was gone.

"Will it come back?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Every single morning," said Nana.

Rosa closed her eyes.

In her mind, she saw the sun traveling — over the dark ocean, over sleeping mountains, over cities she had never been to, warming one face at a time. Making its way around. Making its way back.

She thought she might like to do a job like that someday.

Something important. Something that touched everyone.

But for now, she was very, very tired.

And the sun, she knew, would handle the rest.

The End.