She would love to pick up driftwood along the beach.
Sometimes, she'd steal bites and pieces of her kids candy bags, stored on top of the fridge.
She would dance in the living room to her music, and when she and her kids would listen to the radio in the car, she'd tell them what each song meant to her.
It's almost like I know her.
Her memory dances in my mind, as graceful as the stories my mom shares about her.
“The moon is a loyal companion.
It never leaves.
It’s always there, watching, steadfast,
knowing us in our light and dark moments,
changing forever just as we do.
Every day it’s a different version of itself.
Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light.
The moon understands what it means to be human.
Uncertain.
Alone.
Cratered by imperfections.”
