Stacks

“There’s a new moon tonight,” the mother said.

“It's just all black.”

“It’s still there, honey. Circling somewhere. Waiting to grow again.”

The daughter picked a piece of dead skin from her lip.

“I know,” she said. “I-I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. I thought saying it might help. There’s this weight on my chest. I can’t break free. I keep trying, but—” She struggled for breath. “It just sits back down.”

“Push it away.”

“I don’t know how.”

The mother took her daughter’s shoulders, searching for her eyes. “Yes, you do.”

“No. It won’t leave. Trying and failing makes me feel worse.”

“What’s your answer, then?”

The daughter choked on her teeth, hair slipping over her eyes.

The mother sat back. Listening to the pulse of the night.

“Come with me,” she said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

The daughter's cheek twitched. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’ll drive until we find a place where the moon is always full.”

“Mom.”

“All right. Then until the weight is gone.” She placed her palm over her daughter’s heart, feeling its shredded beat. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll come up with something else.”

The tears came, but the daughter didn’t hide behind her hair. Instead, she found the clear, blue moons of her mother's eyes.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay.”

---

This vignette was inspired by Bon Iver's song, re: Stacks.

--This is not the sound of a new man
or crispy realization
It's the sound of the unlocking
and the lift away
Your love will be
safe with me