You can’t hide your secrets from the moon. She sees what you try to hide in the dark. During the day her sleep is disturbed by the tears you have not cried. It’s like trying to hold back the ocean’s tides. Eventually the water finds a way to flow.
Tonight do yourself a favor. Bask in the light of the moon and sing her that lullaby you haven’t quite forgotten. Open that hope chest that your mother gave to you and look at all the fine linens you’ve never used. Watch the moonlight glint off the tarnished silver that has gathered dust. Dig deeper. All the way to the bottom. There is a letter waiting for you to read. You read it once a long time ago and then buried it in the hope chest. Your tears are trapped inside the words on that page. Let them flow. Pull out the tiny pair of baby shoes. You were once tiny enough to fit your feet in them. It was both forever ago and only yesterday.
When the tears run dry, the relief makes it easier to breathe. Deep breaths fill your lungs and ease the ache that you’ve been carrying in your heart. You look at the fancy linens and see new possibilities. You’ve needed curtains in the kitchen for a long while, looks like you found them. You leave the letter and the baby shoes behind. The box of silver ware is heavy but you know you’ve got a polishing cloth somewhere. Soon they will be shiny and clean. You may not have been born with a silver spoon in your mouth but there is nothing stopping you from using one to make your tea.
The prompts for today’s short story:
Copyright 2020 Klaudia Grady