Mini Moon

Uncles On The Moon

It was now Saturday. I once again laid on the hill, staring dead at the moon. Never once had I felt the way I did, staring at the moon. I felt confused. And the moon did to.

It almost felt as if someone was up there waiting for me. And they were angry...sad. That I wasn't there. The moon was mad at me. Thinking about the possibility the moon could be unhappy with me, my only friend, made me think of my uncle.

He died when I was ten. I was fourteen now, so that hadn't been to long ago. I had gotten in an argument with him. I had been sobbing on my bed, my aunt had been laughing at me, pushing me around.

"What's wrong Lalette?" He had said. With so much worry, so much fear. I knew I had to tell him. My face was tear streaked. I couldn't get out of it. "Uncle I'm scared!" I had yelled. I yelled so loud, he practically went pale. Filled with worry, he had run over to me. "Scared of what?" He had to repeat himself. "Scared of what my star?"

"Her! That women you married!" He had tried to comfort me, try to get me to explain, but I was to angry. To stupid. "Its all your fault! You brought her into our lives!"

I had hit at him, kicked at him. Hit at him emotionally. So he left me for some alone time, and never came back. "I'm gonna get you a gift." Was the last thing he ever said.

Days, then weeks had past. My aunt finally called the police. More days, more weeks, a month. They found nothing. And he was declared dead.

After he died, I had no one to look out for me. No one to talk to, no friends. No one who loved me. In tell I met the moon. I had knocked over a cup of wine and stained my aunts dress. In anger, she threw me out for the night. Once again, I had let my anger get the best of me. Stupidly, I ran as far as I could.

And that's when I saw the hill. I climbed it, and met the moon. I sobbed, and talked away my problems. The moon didn't budge. It stood still  and listened. All night long.

It had felt so close, it's light like a hug. The moon was there for me when not a single being was.

The moon is just that kind. Although I guess everyone leaves at some point. The moon would always sink away, making way for the snobby sun. Just like my uncle had made way for my snobby aunt.

And then, as I sat up on my elbows, I realized something. Maybe my uncle was on the moon.