La Luna Strikes Again

With a full moon, I always wonder about change.

Last night, I went for a walk around the block after finally putting a terribly crabby 15 month old to bed. There is was, la luna, full and plump.

“It’s a rock,” my daughter said. Coco is a beautiful blend of concrete and mush. As I was getting dinner ready for my other child, my daughter came into the kitchen with tears streaming down her face. She held a dead humming bird in her hand.

“She’s dead!” she sobbed. She cupped the little bird in the palm of her hand. Continue reading »