The Blanket with a Window in It

Rumi spread the plum blanket across the low table.

She tucked one edge under a cushion and let the other fall to the floor.

Inside was a house exactly her size.

She brought her pillow, a picture book and her soft rabbit.

The rabbit had to come through the door sideways.

Rumi pushed its tail in last.

Now everything was home.

Mika sat outside in his blue pajamas.

'What is it like in there?'

'It's mine,' said Rumi.

She let the last corner fall closed.

It was dark beneath the table.

Something beside the pillow looked like a crouching bear.

Rumi touched it with one paw.

It was her spare sock, behaving very grandly.

She opened the book.

She could feel the pages turning, but she could not see the pictures.

The rabbit did not seem to mind.

Rumi did.

She lifted a corner.

A ribbon of lamplight crossed the floor.

Mika's blue knee appeared beyond it.

'Are you still there?' Rumi asked.

'Yes,' said Mika. 'Your rabbit dropped this.'

He slid a little cloth carrot through the gap.

Rumi put it beside the rabbit.

She left the corner up a moment longer.

Rumi folded the blanket edge over itself.

It made a small opening above the floor.

Through it she could see Mika, the lamp, and a small piece of the room.

Her house was still there.

Mika held up his paws like branches.

'A tree,' he said.

Then he made one paw hop across the window.

Rumi's house had acquired a very peculiar garden.

Rumi moved her pillow a little.

She moved the rabbit a little more.

'You can come in for one story,' she said.

Mika brought the carrot.

They read by the light from the window.

Mika turned the pages. Rumi pointed at the pictures.

The rabbit sat between them.

Its carrot was the only thing that did not need a place to sit.

When Mika went to bed, Rumi closed the door.

She left the window folded open.

From her pillow she could see the garden moon.

Her house had a view.