Sara Meets a Moose

When I was around five, my mom sent me on a very important mission—to walk to Grandma’s house and fetch some mustard. We lived in Willow Creek, right at the foot of the mountain, where the trees whispered in the wind, and the world felt big and full of mysteries.

I took my little legs on the familiar path, my mind focused on my task like a true adventurer. Grandma handed me the mustard with a smile, and off I went, marching back home, proud of my successful journey.

But then, right there, under the apple tree, stood the strangest creature I had ever seen. It was huge, with long, spindly legs, and its face was—well, kind of ugly. It looked like a donkey, but not any donkey I had ever seen. Maybe a horse? A really weird horse?

Curious, I walked right up to it. The creature and I stared at each other, both trying to figure out what exactly we were looking at. It huffed. I blinked. Neither of us moved.

Luckily for me, the creature must have decided I was harmless because it didn’t chase or bite or stomp. With my mission still in mind, I skipped past it and delivered the mustard safely to my mom.

“There’s a really big, ugly-looking donkey outside,” I announced proudly.

Mom went to the window, took one look, and gasped. “Nobody go outside!” she ordered, before grabbing the phone.

I watched as she called my dad. “Blaine,” she said, half-laughing, half-concerned, “it’s either a camel or a moose.”

A moose!

I think about that sometimes. That moose could have stomped me flat like a pancake. But instead, it just stood there, trying to figure me out, just like I was trying to figure it out.

And in the end, we both went our separate ways—me with my mustard, and the moose, well… hopefully back up the mountain where it belonged.