Polar bear and the northern lights

⏱ ~5 min reading

In the far, far North, where the earth is covered in a white fur blanket and the sea freezes into a silver mirror surface, there lived a little polar bear named Snowball. He was still very small - his paws were soft as pillows, his fur was fluffy, like fresh snow after a blizzard. The entire polar sky was reflected in his eyes.

This winter the sun had long since set. It had slipped below the horizon a month ago and had not reappeared, as it does in the North, where winter lasts a long, long time and the day becomes as short as a sigh.

At first, Snowball was sad.

"Dad," he asked, nuzzling his nose against his father's warm paw, "when will the sun come back?"

"Soon, son," replied the father. "Be patient. In the North, everything comes in its own time.".

"And for now, it's dark," sighed Snowball.

"But for now, it's dark," Dad agreed. And he didn't add anything else.

One evening - and here you can't tell which is evening and which is night, because everything is dark - Snowball came out of his den onto the ice. The snow creaked under his paws - as quietly as a whisper. The stars poured out thickly across the black sky, as if someone had sprinkled silver salt on velvet. Snowball raised his muzzle and looked at them. He felt calm and a little sad.

And suddenly, something started.

At first it was a thin, barely noticeable green strip near the horizon. Snowball even thought it was an illusion. But the strip became wider. Then wider still. It trembled, swayed, as if someone in the sky had gently shaken a huge, thin silk fabric.

The green color became bright, bright. It was joined by pink—gentle, like the belly of a small fish. Then purple—deep, like water in a hole. All the colors swam across the sky in slow waves, shimmering into each other, flowing from green to pink, from pink to lilac.

Snowball stopped breathing.

"These... these are magical colors," he whispered with his own lips.

He sat on the ice. He couldn't even move. He couldn't speak. He just stared with wide eyes as the living sky danced above him.

A minute later, a soft crunch of snow was heard nearby. It was Dad running. Big, calm, with thick white fur. He didn't say anything. He just sat down next to his son, paw to paw. And he was also looking up.

They sat like that for a long, long time. Dad didn't ask what happened. He didn't ask if Snowball was cold. He just gently stroked his fur with his wide, warm paw—slowly, in time with the waves of light.

When the green turned back to pink, Dad spoke softly.

"Do you know, son, what this is?"

"What, Dad?"

— This is our winter fairy tale. The sun sets for us for six months. In the dark we could be sad — lie in a den, complain, wait. But nature gave us this, — dad pointed his paw at the sky. — The glow. So that we remember: there is always light. It just changes its dress sometimes.

Snowball thought. He was silent for a long time, looking at the waves of colors.

"Dad..." he finally whispered. "Is this for us? For the bears?"

— Yes, son. For all who live in the cold. For seals. For foxes. For reindeer. For those rare people who walk around in furry coats and look at the sky. For everyone. Miracles happen to those who know how to wait in the dark.

"Wait in the dark..." Snowball repeated quietly.

He thought about all those days when he wished the sun would come out sooner. How he missed it. How he said it was "boring." And it turns out - if it weren't for the darkness, he wouldn't have seen this green, pink, purple. Because during the day there is a glow - only the sun is so bright that its glow is not visible. It hides. It waits for the sun to go down, so that it can quietly unfold its dance.

"Dad," Snowball raised his face to his father. "And if I'm sad about the darkness tomorrow, will you remind me?"

"I'll remind you, my little one. I'll remind you as much as necessary.".

They sat together for a long time. The glow flared up brighter, then faded, then opened again. Snowball leaned against his father and felt his warm side warm his little shoulder. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. Somewhere in the ice a floe crunched. And above them the polar sky was silent and singing at the same time.

Since then, Snowball has changed. Every winter, when the sun went down and it got dark, he didn't feel sad. He waited. He went out onto the ice floe, sat on his tail, and looked up. And the light came. Not always right away. Sometimes, it took a week. Sometimes, it took a month. But it always came. Because that's how it is: light appears in the darkness for those who have the patience to wait for it.

And when Snowball grew up and had a little white bear cub, on the first long night he took it by the paw, led it to the ice and whispered:

"Now I'll show you our winter fairy tale. Look up and wait.".

And the bear cub waited. And the light came. As it always comes — to those who know how to wait in the darkness.