The Afternoon Moon

The Afternoon Moon Grandmother reclines in the passenger seat, while sunlight glows through her white wavy hair. Her cheeks rosy, she smiles at me as I drive east toward the Blossom Trail. I beam back, then remember my mask hides my mouth. We pass some almond orchards, the flowers like drops of warm vanilla cream under the clear blue sky. Grandmother remarks how some trees already dropped their petals, though it’s not even March. A white half moon climbs the sky, like it wants to get a jump start on night, even if it’s only two o’clock. It tries to rush away my Sunday, my present moment, my time with Grandmother into a whole week without her. Will it hasten the day she’ll move into assisted living, where I won’t be allowed to see her? Published in Song of the San Joaquin, Spring 2021 Issue