Lily loved the night. The stars twinkled like tiny diamonds, and the moon was a big, soft pearl in the sky. Tonight, she was going on a special ferry ride across the wide, dark river with her Grandpa. The ferry was like a sleepy, floating house, with warm lights inside.
As the ferry chugged gently away from the shore, Lily leaned over the railing. The water looked like black velvet, smooth and deep. Grandpa pointed to the riverbank. "Listen, Lily," he whispered. "The river has stories to tell, if you listen closely."
Lily listened. At first, she only heard the gentle chug-chug of the ferry's engine. But then, she heard other sounds. A soft rustle from the trees on the bank. A tiny plink as something dropped into the water. Grandpa smiled. "That's the river talking," he said.
"What is it saying?" Lily asked, her eyes wide.
"It's telling us about the little fish that darted by just now," Grandpa explained. "They are playing hide-and-seek among the smooth, grey stones. And it's telling us about the tall reeds, swaying like dancers in the gentle breeze, home to sleepy dragonflies."
Lily imagined the tiny fish with their silver scales and the dragonflies with their shimmering wings. The river seemed to whisper more secrets. She heard the soft hoot of an owl from a faraway tree, and the river seemed to carry its sleepy song. It told of the busy beavers building their homes, and the shy deer who came to drink at the water's edge when the moon was high.
The water itself seemed to glow with a soft, silvery light from the moon. Lily saw her reflection, and beside it, she imagined the reflections of all the creatures the river had seen – the playful otters, the graceful swans, and even the tiny water bugs that skated on the surface.
"The river is like a big, flowing memory," Grandpa said softly, as if reading Lily's thoughts. "It remembers everything that happens along its banks and in its waters. It carries the whispers of the wind, the songs of the birds, and the rustle of the leaves."
Soon, the ferry reached the other side. The lights of their cozy home twinkled in the distance. As Lily stepped off the ferry, she felt a deep sense of peace. The river's stories had been like a lullaby, soft and comforting.
Back in her warm bed, tucked under her quilt, Lily closed her eyes. She could still hear the gentle chug-chug of the ferry and the soft whispers of the river. She dreamt of silver fish, swaying reeds, and the kind moon watching over everything. The river, with all its hidden stories, had sung her a perfect bedtime song.