Good Night, Moon
By Tara Przybille Bradley
I flop down onto the blown up air mattress and put the plastic over my face. Over my head. I wonder how it looks. Does it look scary? Morbid? Do I look like a person in a movie who will soon be dead from asphyxiation? It gets warm inside the bag fast. Nice. Comfy, really. I sigh inside the dewy bag and lay there in the den on the bed that was made for me. Iâ€™m tired.
â€œGet that off your head. It looks horrible.â€
I sit up and make death noises. Or whatever I think death noises would be.
â€œDoes it? How does it look, really?â€ I ask from inside the bag. I donâ€™t really want to know. I just want Kristen to describe it. To see if she will.
â€œYouâ€™re fucked up.â€ she rolls her eyes and shakes her head. How many times have I seen her do this? How many times has she thought that she doesnâ€˜t know quite what to do with this freaky friend of hers? I take the bag off my head.
I will not smother today.
â€œPut the pillow back in the cover so the kids donâ€™t mess it up on your way back home.â€
â€œI love this pillow! Thank you! Love love love love….nice pillow. Finally, one of these is MINE!!â€ I kiss the pillow many times and pound my head on it. It is from Michigan. These pillows can only be found there. Her grandmother buys them at a store, donâ€™t remember the name of it, and now Kristen has bought me one for my birthday. I am thinking that the store disappears once you walk out itâ€™s doors. It is a mystical pillow store and it is very difficult to find. One needs a pillow divining rod to find it. Her grandmother is an ancient pillow seeker. I am in Seattle receiving my pillow.
â€œIâ€™m tired.â€ My voice is muffled because I am lying face down on the mattress. I wish I was not feeling like I was still moving. The drive was long. The kids did well. They are champions of discomfort. Heroes of the long and rocky road. Stalwarts in the hardship they must bear with me as their mother. â€œItâ€™s a good thing you bought me this pillow.â€
Good Night, Moon