When I was just a small child
my mother called me down to her
smiled at me and said
Your sister will be born this summer.
I was at once elated
but also
shocked:
How could it be
that I had never noticed
the sad way the exhaustion caused her
shoulders to droop
the cloudy mornings of peppermint tea,
crackers by the bed
and not the least
the bulging belly
huge now that she mentioned it
too obvious to miss?
And yet I had.
My mother, the moon to my world
This mysterious thing.
I hung my eyes on her as she spun slowly
and although I never glanced away
I never really saw her, either.
That day
the veil was lifted
and there she was
My mother
Rounded, luminous,
and human.
Not a moon at all.
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Kara Q. Rea is an emerging writer with work forthcoming in the Running Wild Anthology of Stories: Volume 5 and Birthing Magazine's Spring and Summer 2021 issues.She lives in Massachusetts with the love of her life and their three young children.You can find Kara on Instagram @karaqwrites or by visiting her website, www.karaqwrites.com