Moon Child

Moon Child 

There’s a small bit of story that’s been weaving in and out of sight. It begins with a theme as worn and familiar as any. A mother and her child. Classic. Trauma & neglect. Cliché. Their relationship somewhere on a scale between broken and vanished.  As the child grew, their relationship was littered about with sparks of togetherness, but as a whole it was a fire starved. A fire often unseen. Unwanted. Unlit. And when the child left home, the fire that should have kept them tied together, was fed by water. 

Turning back on memories, hazy and often poorly remembered, that child could recall a spark. A beautiful spark. Her spark. To hold in her heart as a sign she was wanted.

After the four other children had been put to bed, the night sky darkened. Sippy cup filled, that small child would be scooped up in her mother’s arms. Oh how soft they were. She can still recall the smell, the warmth, the feeling of lying close to her mother’s skin.  Embodiment of safe.  Together the mother and child slipped outside and onto the front steps. Together they watched the Moon rise. Together they sat. Til the sippy cup had been drained. And that was it. 

The Moon became a spark in the child’s life but as she grew the memory faded. And on nights when the full Moon proudly shown in the sky to greet her, she’d smile and feel a tinge of sadness before turning away. 

That child grew up and up and up until one day she was a grown girl. And Grown Girl had a child of her own. And then a second. She did her best to greet motherhood with a fire of love and togetherness. She wanted her children to feel seen, to feel wanted, to feel warmth. Her motherhood wasn’t perfect. Some days it wasn’t even good. Some moments were dark. Lonely. Humbling. And like her mother before her, she too held places still cold and untouched by the warmth that should have grown there.  But she worked hard to light them. And Grown Girl was mostly happy and her children were mostly happy.

And then one day Grown Girl welcomed a third child into their family. And through him, her spark awoke once more, weaving his heart and hers together in a special bond. 

He was a small baby and didn’t open his eyes for a whole two days after he was born. He was often restless at night and just barely behind on developing strength. But his eyes were strong. He’d often look up to the Moon, finding it on his own and tracking its light. ‘Moon’ was among his first words, coming behind ‘Mama’ and ‘Dada’ only. He was a moon child. 

And Moon Child was sick, but Grown Girl didn’t know it. They saw small signs here and there and as the signs grew so did the doctor appointments. Test upon test, opinion chasing opinion, Grown Girl worried for her Moon Child. The fire that connected her to him pulled at her heart, sometimes threatening to swallow her. 

And though her fire burned brightly for Moon Child, they were surrounded by dark.  There were nights where they didn’t know if Moon Child would get to grow up. There were nights they didn’t know if Moon Child’s body would walk again. Or if Moon Child’s brain would allow him to remember moments and sparks of his own.  Moon Child’s future diverged into darkness. 

On quiet nights, when the other children had been put to bed, Grown Girl would scoop up Moon Child in her arms. Oh how she loved the way his body sank into hers. She could feel the weight of his every muscle melt into her chest. His smell resting against hers, did it comfort him? Together they would slip outside and walk towards the Moon. 

She’d sing sweet songs as he lay on her shoulder. ‘Baby mine…rest your head ,close to my heart, never to part. Baby of mine…you are so special to me, sweet as can be, baby of mine.’ Sometimes Moon Child would sing with her in broken baby words, others he’d just lay, eyes fixed on the Moon. 

Moon Child’s Father was strong.  Calm and silent. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t lose his patience and he didn’t cry.  Sure as the ground we walk on, he stood firm for those around him. The only fire in his bones burned for the love of his family. 

One night an important test loomed on the horizon for Moon Child. It held the potential to leak light onto Moon Child’s future, one faint beam streaming through the darkness.  Would the light bring news of a thriving future? Or would this light only uncover further darkness stretching on, and on…?

 Moon Child’s Father put him to bed that night.  He gathered the board books that lined Moon Child’s room, all worn from use and filled with moons, stars, and night skies. As Moon Child’s Father rocked, and held, he read, ‘I love you like the Moon at night, big and round and warm and bright.  I love you. Goodnight,’ and he sobbed. He sobbed and he sobbed and sobbed as he hadn’t before. Ground shaking, voice trembling, he sobbed for his Moon Child.

Earlier that day, Moon Child’s Father had quite by accident happened across a story of Neil Armstrong. Neil Armstrong: first man to walk on the moon. We all know. But Neil also had a child of his own. She was the same age as our Moon Child. She was also sick in her brain, as our Moon Child was. She died before her third birthday.   It’s written that when Neil went up to the Moon on that fateful mission, he slipped away to a crater. It’s undocumented what happened there, but its largely speculated that Neil laid to rest a bracelet that used to belong to his child. And that now, the Moon shines as a reminder of that love he holds for his Moon Child. To always remember her spark. She was his, loved and wanted.   

Was this Moon Child’s fate? Moon Child’s Father and Grown Girl wondered this as they moved throughout their days, waiting for more light to shine in the darkness.

 And our bit of story ends there. Unfinished but told all the same. A spark that was lit decades ago between Mother and Child burns on. Regardless of where this story leads, one thing is sure. Grown Girl and Moon Child will always share that spark.  And the Moon will always shine. And Grown Girl will always look up on that same Moon as she did as a child. With a smile and tinge of sadness, how big that sadness may grow? Only time will tell.

We love you Moon Child.

*blog post on what that 'big test' found here.