David A. Robertson

Deep in the night, when James should be sleeping, he tosses and turns. He thinks about big questions, like why we don''t feel dizzy when the Earth spins. He looks at the stars outside his bedroom and thinks about the Night Sky Stories his kokom has told him. He imagines being a moshom himself. On nights like these, he follows the moonlit path to his mother''s bedroom. They talk and they cuddle, and they fall asleep just like that. One day, James''s kokom takes him on a special walk with a big group of people. It''s called a march, and it ends in front of a big pile of things: teddy bears, flowers, tobacco ties and little shoes. Kokom tells him that this is a memorial in honour of Indigenous children who had gone to residential schools and boarding schools but didn''t come home. He learns that his kokom was taken away to one of these schools with her sister, who also didn''t come home. That night, James can''t sleep so he follows the moonlit path to his mother. She explains to James that at residential school when Kokom felt alone, she had her sister to cuddle, just like they do. And James falls asleep gathered in his mother''s arms.