Full Moon, Blue Moon by Michelle McEwen

Whenever there is a full moon, ma always gets the need to call daddy long distance down south — even though daddy isn’t thinking about her. He only calls us once in a blue moon and that’s to check up on his baby girls. Every time the moon is big and bright in the hall window, ma says, “Look at that moon” and runs to the kitchen phone to call daddy. Daddy always picks up on the second ring and ma always says, “The moon made me call. Remember how you used to get when there was a full moon?” Ma doesn’t give daddy time to remark; she just gets right to explaining to daddy how daddy used to be during a full moon. “Remember how you’d come home from work and start fussin? That was the moon in you,” she usually says, laughing — her laugh more like a howl. Then she’ll lower her voice — say, “And after all that fussin, you’d be all over me making me feel like how I looked before the babies. No man ever gon’ top your lovin!” Knowing daddy, this makes him smile; daddy is a fool for praising. And I swear I can hear his smile across the kitchen into the living room where me and my sister always sit listening to ma explaining daddy to daddy. “I swear your daddy some kin to the moon,” she sometimes says on her way through the living room to her bedroom to dream about daddy.

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