Mia and the Rainy Pond

"I am not crying," said Mia, and a big tear rolled down her nose.

Mia was five, and she wanted one thing more than anything. She wanted to be the first to see the pond freeze. In her village, the pond froze into a new pattern every single night. Stars one night. Feathers the next. Nobody thought this was strange. Mia's grandpa always checked it with his cup of tea.

This morning, Mia ran down the hill in her red boots. Someone was already sitting on the best spot, the flat gray rock at the edge. It was a small brown frog.

"That is my spot," said Mia.

The frog did not move. It looked at the ice, and it looked at Mia.

Mia looked at the ice too. It was cracked right across the middle. A big fat crack, like a lightning bolt. Her stomach went tight. Last night she had stayed awake to see the pattern, and she had fallen asleep. Now it was spoiled. Somebody had stepped on it. Maybe it was her.

"I wanted to see it," she said. Her chin wobbled. "I am not crying."

She tried to hold it in. She squeezed her eyes and puffed her cheeks like a balloon. That did not work. She tried to count to ten. That did not work either.

Then she heard a sound. Plink.

A tear had fallen off her chin and landed on the ice. It left a tiny round hole, shining like a window.

Mia stopped. She looked at the hole. Then another tear fell. Plink. Another small window.

"Oh," said Mia.

She let the tears come, one after another. Plink, plink, plink. When she finally looked up, the ice was covered in tiny shining dots. Together with the crack, they made a long, wiggly line, like a path of stars across the sky.

"It's a river of stars," Mia whispered.

The frog gave one loud ribbit and hopped over to the dots. It sat down in the very middle of them.

Mia laughed, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and sat on the gray rock. It was big enough for two.

"It's okay to cry," said Mia, looking at the dots. "It's okay to cry."

The ice glittered, and the frog went ribbit.