the necklace and my mother
amma opens the top drawer
of the dresser that’s older than i am
and pulls out a chain
it lays twisted but not tangled
it glitters but does not sparkle
it is old yet it feels so new
for i have never seen it
but i know already
i love it
the chain wraps around her hand
waiting to be worn around my neck
amma hands it to me reluctantly
she urges me to not lose it
are you too young for this?
she thinks out loud
but gives it to me anyway
and i wear it proud
proud of my mother
who spent her first paycheck on this gold
proud of my mother
who wore this gold when she got married
proud of my mother
who immigrated to the states with this gold
proud of my mother
who is always so proud of me
always wear it inside your shirt
she fearfully says to me
you can’t lose it
she cautions me again
i’ve worn it for seven years now
and i always will
because for the first time
i think to myself
maybe something gold can stay
***
the moon and my father
blurry memories
of sleepy car rides home
with everyone asleep
but dad and me
he points to the moon
and says to me,
if you look at the moon
it looks back at you
can you spot it?
he asks
it can always spot you
he tells me tales of when he was young
clouds of smoke would fill the sky
and leave the night with darkness
monsters lurked in the trees
the city lay asleep
but he was wide awake
not one star to light the way
but the moon always did
he tells me about his bike rides at night
coming home later than he should
he would look at the moon
and they would return together
safe and sound
he tells me how he thought
there couldn’t be just one moon
after all,
how could only one moon always know
his every move?
he had me convinced
and still does,
for my child-like mind
finds comfort
that in the scary darkness
the moon will light my path
now as i walk
to my home away from home
i glance up at the moon
just every now and then
and i can’t help but wonder
is he looking at the moon too?
MiC Columnist Meghan Dodaballapur can be reached at mdodab@umich.edu.