TALKING TO THE MOON

Mary wasn't entirely happy when her mother gave her the news. It was a Friday night, Mary
and her sisters had planned to have an all-nighter in the larger room upstairs to stay up playing
games and watching the old television next to the bed, but now that plan was flung in the wind
of a crash plan; for Grandma was coming to visit and her visits were usually at least a weekend
long. The room would have to be spring cleaned and prepped up for Grandma, and that would
involve changing the bed cover to Grandma's brown wooly favourite.

Well, they did love their old Big mama as she wanted to be called; but first, this was wrong
timing and the old woman was quite odd, in a safe language. She was enlightened and could be
very interesting to talk to, but as the night came, she would retreat into a sullen mood, spending
the night at the balcony upstairs, doing only God-knows-what.
Mary never knew what Big Mama did, for she had never seen her on those nights, but her older
sisters all had different speculations.

"She would spend the night looking at the owls and communicating with them." That's Janet,

"I think she has an imaginary friend from her childhood"

And Amara,

"Well, it must be that our dear old Big Mama is going crazy. My teacher said old people have
such episodes."
...and Gloria

"I think she's a witch and she's talking to her fellow spirits from beyond"
And that was Jessica.

Mary always hated assumptions and made up stories, so she walked downstairs to ask their
mother directly.

"Mama is there something wrong with Big Mama?" Her mother, dressed in the brown apron,
Dropped the knife on the chopping board and looked at her with surprise. Her delicate voice
was in a far contrast from the weight of what she was asking.

"No, my dear. Why would you think that?"

"Well, because she stays up late into the night looking so sad, and the other girls say she
spends the nights at the balcony talking to owls, spirits, or her imaginary friends. They have
different opinions."
She tapped her cheek, with eyes in upward, left gaze recalling all that they said.

"Did they now?"

Her mother asked, looking quite amused, yet much less bewildered and returning to slicing
vegetables. Guess it was not as serious as she thought.

"Yes, but what do I believe? Is she going crazy as all old people do? or is she a witch?"

"Mary!" Her mother exclaimed sharply as in a censuring tone. What seemed like childhood
curiosity was now turning to disrespect.

"You would not talk about your Big Mama like that. I am most disappointed in you and your
older sisters for giving voice to such rude thoughts on your head. Now, go up to your room and
do not come down until your Big Mama gets here." Her mother said in a rage.

Mary felt sad. She wasn't being derogatory to her Big Mama, she only had questions and hoped
that her mother could answer them. With a drooping shoulder and a long face, she dragged
herself up to the bedroom which she shared with her sisters, and laid flat on the bed. She didn't
receive any answers and her mother sent her away in a fit. She realised why the older girls
never talk to their mother.

Speaking of the girls, they were probably cleaning Big Mama's room, and since Mary had some
time to herself, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes to sleep.

Waking up from her dreams of owls and spirits to the eardrum resonating sound of someone
yelling her name, Mary awoke with a start, being called by Janet to come downstairs because
Big Mama was asking for her. Her terrifying dreams did not make that something she was
looking toward, not for all the candies and sausages in the world, but her mother was already
displeased with her, and she had to hold herself to mother's good standard, or else, she'd
receive a whipping. She made to wash her face in the bathroom sink and made her way
downstairs, dragging her feet on the floor as she went.

Big Mama sat on the single armchair, talking to their mother while the other girls sat on the
centre rug eating the candies Big Mama bought them.

"Good evening Grandma," Mary said in her soft voice as she got downstairs.
Her mother looked at her with a knowing and threatening eye, while Big Mama looked at her
with a beaming, more welcoming smile, yet Big Mama's warm smile had suddenly become
twisted in her mind, appearing just like the smile she had in her dream just before Big Mama
grew fangs and claws and reached out to drink her blood.
[2/28, 10:33 PM] Efe: "Evening my sweet. Here, have some candy." But her feet stayed planted
until she caught her mother's eyes again and she ran into Big Mama's arms knowing she was
safer there-for now.
Dinner went smoothly. Big Mama told them stories while they ate potato porridge. Mary did not
have a large appetite, but she had to finish her serving as par their mother's rule. She was also
unusually quiet and only responded when her mother yelled at her to stop being quiet. At that
moment, she couldn't wait to finish her meal and do all the dishes, just anything to leave the
room.
Afterward, they had their evening devotion, which was another time of torment requiring much
endurance, for Big Mama's lovely voice sounded like a shrill and shrieking bird call.

Mary retired for the night much earlier than the other girls who stayed up with their father
downstairs to watch late-night movies on television. She removed the candies she hid in her
pocket and looked at them, carefully. She couldn't eat them for fear of what Big Mama had done
to them; for all she knew, they could all wake up in a daze to join in on the strange night
meetings Big Mama attended at night. Her sisters had completely consumed theirs and she
thought she had to be wary of them too, so she hid hers in her school bag hoping to discard it
on the way to school on Monday morning.

The wall clock rang the 11 'o'clock tune at the turn of the hour, yet Mary was still awake, she
could hardly sleep because her head was now full of wild imaginations now supported by the
quiet night. Just then, she heard a creaking sound, the same sound of the old door to Big
Mama's room. Her heart began to beat faster as she heard an approaching sound of footsteps
on the floor. Even with all that fear, her overwhelming curiosity made her leap out of bed to peep
through the keyhole on the door.
Big mama was heading towards the balcony just at the end of the corridor upstairs in her
nightwear and an old shawl draped around her neck, having her long white hair out of its bands.

Allowing her to reach the balcony and after waiting a few more seconds, Mary followed her in
stealth. She was on an adventure to confirm the stories her sisters had told in the wildness of
teenage imaginations, even though her mother seemed to be protecting a secret. She would
finally get all the answers once and for all and put an end to this mystery, she thought. Maybe if
something bad happened to her, then her father would find out who/what Big Mama truly is and
be able to save the other girls. A worthy sacrifice indeed.

Big Mama made to close the door to the balcony. Of course, she must be about to do something
strange.

Positioning herself quietly, Mary looked through the open window next to the door where she
could see Big Mama; her white gown and white hair were now radiant under the full moon. Mary
noticed that she held the old shawl close to her chest and gave a squeeze as though she was in
pain, but she couldn't be because according to the story, it was about the time she invited the
spirits.
At that moment, while waiting for the next scene to play out, Mary heard a sniffle which made
her stop to *peer* ?? more closely at the old woman she had been watching. Big Mama raised
her head and Mary saw lines of tears glistening on her cheek.

She was crying, but why? That was most perplexing. Was the spirit hurting her?

Much to Mary's surprise, Big Mama began to sing a love song as the tears rolled down her
cheeks softly. Mary could feel the sadness in her voice and she began to wonder about what
made Big Mama cry.

Big Mama soon stopped singing, and began her soliloquy:

"Thomas, oh Thomas. How I miss you so..."

Mary's eyes opened up in surprise. Thomas was Big Daddy's name, Big Mama's husband. They
came like a flood: Big Mama spent the nights mourning her dead husband, who was gone for a
little over 13 years now. Now feeling a little bit of shame, Mary felt like she had violated Big
Mama's privacy and turned to leave, but in the sudden rush, she ran into the small vase on the
wooden platform just by her side, and let out a little, low pitched cry to the crash of the vase, just
before she could pick it up. Mary shut her eyes in fear and guilt together, she knew she had
given away her position and lost her stealth. Surely, Big Mama must feel like she was spying on
her private moment.

The balcony doors creaked open, and Mary looked to see the ever-smiling face of Big mama,
with outstretched arms towards her.

"I knew it was you my little kitten. Come on, up you go."

Big Mama helped her up and gathered up the pieces of the shattered vase. Mary could see the
*distance* ?? in her eyes and thought to allow the old woman her privacy, but it was now or
never for answers.

"What are you doing, Big Mama?" She asked.

Big Mama looked at her, a bit surprised at the question.

"Come sit with me, dear." Big Mama said as she turned to go to the balcony. Mary walked
behind her and sat on the bench right next to her. Big Mama was silent for a moment, gazing at
the moon with a wistful look, eyes misty with tears that flowed over the cliff of her lids,
overflowing to run down her cheeks.

"Do you... talk to the owls or the spirits of the night?" Mary asked.

"No, my dear, I don't " The question had made the old woman chuckled through her tears.
"Then are you talking to the moon?"

"Yes, Mary."

"Why?" Mary's face was scrunched in confusion.

"I am talking to your grandpa"

"But...he's not on the moon."

"No, but before he died, he promised he would be looking down at me, listening to my voice and
the sweet words from my heart, and every night since he died, I have talked to the moon. I may
not be able to hear him, but knowing he would hear me gives my heart such warmth."

Mary went silent, looking at the Moon as if to meditate on the words she had just heard.

Mary returned to her room feeling light again, her curiosity had been satisfied, and her fears of
Big Mama communing with spirits and witch owls have gone even though she could not
understand why love made people do crazy things, like staying up late to look at (and talk to)
the Moon. Big Mama had said she would understand when she found the company of love and
the bliss it brings, but she had denied, claiming not to bother about what events in her future
would be concerning love, she went to bed with a smile

Big Mama was not a witch, she was not talking to spirits; she was talking to the Moon.