Stories from The Moon / Cuentos de la Luna

Luna survives and tells a story like it’s funny--like it didn’t hurt. Meanwhile, I make sure we feed the dog and read the books she has in mind. Luna visits friends and forgets everything he said. I stay with her, silently sipping cold water while she laughs with them. I think about the lives we’ve lost and count them with our fingers. Luna thinks that everything will work out this time--that good things happen to good people. I don’t even know if we are people. We drink coffee, call our mother Madre, and share the same birthday but Luna’s died a good four times. I’ve never been fully alive. Luna has sad stories but doesn’t cry. I cry alone at night, trying not to wake her up. The truth is, I remember every word he said. He said it to us. The moon and the Moonlight. Lately, we’ve been spending more time in the sun. I think Luna likes this because she listens to me when we’re walking by the pool. I know she remembers me because Luna still tells the time in Spanish when she thinks I’m not there. But how can I ever leave her knowing what he said?