But Charlie got up every ten minutes for the first hour, looking out the window for bears in the moonlight. She didn’t really expect to see one but the third time she got up there was Billy Bear, knocking over the extra garbage can they kept by the back shed. When he found it empty he first rolled it for a way as if it were a toy and when he’d gotten all the fun out of that that he could, he went across the meadow and for a moment it looked to Charlie like he was dancing. He stood on his hind legs and his front legs swayed back and forth as if to music only he could hear. It was such an unexpected thing to see. Such a wondrous thing that it took Charlie’s breath away. She didn’t even think to call the others but realized for the first time that things happened when she was sleeping, wondrous things, almost all of which she would never see or know. She was privileged just this once to witness something she would not have suspected took place while all the world but her remained unaware. I wonder if he dances on the day the garbage goes out because it’s his favorite day, thought Charlie sleepily, or if it’s the moonlight making him dance. Maybe when the moon was full it scattered energy in the form of moonbeams that made all the forest and ocean creatures dance. She had a vision of squirrels and otters and seals, starfish, sea anemones and whales and cougars and wolves, all dropping whatever they were doing to perform an intricate interconnected sequence of steps brought on by moonbeam madness. Or maybe they weren’t controlled by the moon, maybe they chose to dance because they loved the light on such nights. Or maybe it wasn’t all creatures. Maybe it was Billy Bear alone. Not just any bear, any more than she was just any child. But a unique bear. Maybe all bears were unique to themselves. It suddenly occurred to her that bears were creatures of thought too and Billy might well like moonlight. He might like all kinds of things. That a bear’s head might be filled with things besides ways to frighten and kill her, was a new thought. That his mind might be full of all kinds of things just as hers was. The things he loved, the things he feared, the things he missed, the new things he was puzzling out. That any creature’s life was made up of the wonderful jumble of what they held in their head and their heart. That the things Billy loved were stored away and treasured: garbage, moonlight, other bears in his family, honey, the smell of spring, the warm den when winter came, the feel in summer of a wet cool creek running past his furry legs, that first blissful moment after a long day when sleep snuck in and claimed him. That he was a creature enjoying the life he had somehow miraculously been given, the same as she.