The evening light made Lumi’s round window look like a warm peach. In the garden, leaves were turning their quiet sides towards the sky. Lumi put three small cards on his table.

“I shall make some goodnight post,” he said. With a blue crayon, he drew a little moon on the first card. The moon had no mouth. Still, it seemed to say something kind.

Lumi finished the other moons and found his little ochre mail bag. He nearly added a very loud song. Then he paused.

“My goodnight likes a quiet story,” he thought. “Perhaps someone else’s goodnight likes something different.” He tucked the three cards into his bag. Instead of bringing one great wish that everyone had to share, he would bring one small question: “What would you like tonight?”

Pip the mouse was folding a soft cloth beside the window. Lumi stopped outside and lifted a paw.

“Would you like a goodnight?” he asked. “A very small one,” Pip replied. “Just a whisper. I am nearly ready to curl up.” Pip pointed to the low windowsill. Lumi set a moon card there and whispered, “Goodnight, Pip.” He did not add a question that needed an answer.

At the hedgehog’s house, the door opened just a little. Tim’s nose appeared, followed by two sleepy eyes. Behind him was a warm patch of lamplight.

“Would you like company, or a quiet goodnight?” Lumi asked. “The quiet one, please,” said Tim. “My cushion is already waiting. Could my card stay outside?” Lumi nodded. A goodnight did not need to step through the door to reach a friend.

Lumi laid the second moon card on the small bench beside Tim’s step. It would wait there, dry and safe beneath the little roof. Tim could look at it whenever he wished.

The hedgehog gave a tiny wave. Lumi waved back, just as small. He did not wait for a speech or another invitation. Soon only the leaves were making a sound by the door. They were very good at gentle goodnights.

On the path home, Lumi touched the last card in his bag. There were more windows in the garden, but most of them were already dim. He did not knock at every door.

“Some goodnights can stay as thoughts,” he whispered. He wished the tall tree a quiet night and let the wish stay quietly inside him. Then he looked at the last little moon. Perhaps this goodnight could come home with him.

Lumi hung his mail bag and green scarf on their peg. His old soft toy was waiting beside the pillow. Beside his low bed were two old cards: a star Pip had drawn on a rainy afternoon, and a leaf Tim had painted long before that.

He put his new moon beside them. No one needed to make a new card tonight. The old pictures were still full of friendship. “A little quiet for me, too,” said Lumi, and he pulled the leaf-green quilt over his paws.

Through the round window, the real moon shone softly on the three little pictures. Lumi thought of Pip’s whisper and Tim’s sheltered bench. Each goodnight had found a place of its own.

“Goodnight, garden. Goodnight, little paws.” He did not have to carry any more wishes down the path. The bag was resting on its peg. The room was resting around him. Lumi’s eyes closed, and his own goodnight stayed close.