My Uncle Ry lived alone in a small house up in the hills. He didn't own many things. He lived a simple life.
One evening, he discovered he had a visitor. A robber had broken into the house and was rummaging through my uncle's few belongings.
The robber didn't notice Uncle Ry, and when my uncle said "Hello," the robber was so startled he almost fell down.
My uncle smiled at the robber and shook his hand. "Welcome! Welcome! How nice of you to visit! The robber opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't think of anything to say.
Because Ry never let's anyone leave empty-handed, he looked around the tiny hut for a gift for the robber. But there was nothing to give. The robber began to back toward the door. He wanted to leave.
At last, Uncle Ry knew what to do. He took off his only robe, which was old and tattered. "Here," he said. "Please take this."
The robber thought my uncle was crazy. He took the robe, dashed out the door, and escaped into the night.
My uncle sat and looked at the moon, its silvery light spilling over the mountains, making all things quietly beautiful.
"Poor man," lamented my uncle. "All I had to give him was my tattered robe. If only I could have given him this wonderful moon."
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