Guarding the Moon
Crescent
Holding the Moon
I feel as if I have been called on to guard
the moon herself. A moon with dimples and a tiny crooked grin. A moon with the sweetest scent emanating from the soft spot on the top
of her round head -- a smell sweeter than
honey or flowers. How do you do this? How
do you safely carry the moon around on this earth?
When we first brought Teenie Wee home from the hospital, it seemed shocking that we were allowed to take her outside, put her into the backseat of the car, and drive through such loud, bright, crowded streets. I sat back there with her, trying not to think of car crashes and how she was so little that her car seat straps barely stayed on her shoulders. I wished, then, that I was a marsupial with a pouch, hopping happily, hippily through a jungle. After giving birth my body was so different that it wouldn't have seemed odd to have a new flap of skin formed on my abdomen, a soft sling that appeared overnight for cradling the little one. But there was nothing except my still distended, now empty uterus. And months later I still want a ... read full excerpt from Guarding the Moon ebook
