Silly Questions
Marcelo Medone
“Why does the moon float, Mum?”
“I don't know, son. It's just hanging in the sky. That's all, my dear.”
“And why doesn't it fall?”
“Because it's always been there, even if sometimes we don't see it.”
“Always?”
“For a long time. All of our lives.”
“But that's not always.”
The boy looked at his mother with a resigned expression. He put his head on the pillow and covered himself with the blanket.
When she was about to blow out the candle, he took her hand and looked at her in anguish.
“Why do things fall to the ground and not come up by themselves? Why can't we fly like birds? Why do apples fall from the trees?” he asked.
“Always asking silly questions, Isaac. You'd better worry about useful things.”
Mrs Newton kissed her son on the forehead, blew out the candle and left her son's room.
Isaac looked at the full moon through his window and said to himself that maybe he wasn't asking silly questions.
“Why does the moon float, Mum?”
“I don't know, son. It's just hanging in the sky. That's all, my dear.”
“And why doesn't it fall?”
“Because it's always been there, even if sometimes we don't see it.”
“Always?”
“For a long time. All of our lives.”
“But that's not always.”
The boy looked at his mother with a resigned expression. He put his head on the pillow and covered himself with the blanket.
When she was about to blow out the candle, he took her hand and looked at her in anguish.
“Why do things fall to the ground and not come up by themselves? Why can't we fly like birds? Why do apples fall from the trees?” he asked.
“Always asking silly questions, Isaac. You'd better worry about useful things.”
Mrs Newton kissed her son on the forehead, blew out the candle and left her son's room.
Isaac looked at the full moon through his window and said to himself that maybe he wasn't asking silly questions.
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