Moon, my friend!

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I sat watching the moon, telling him about my troubles. I told him about the time when I dropped the milk on my dress and was afraid to tell Mom. I told him how when I was taking my seat in the school bus, Tommy, the bully, deliberately stretched his leg to make me stumble. And when I did, all the children laughed at me. I told him how embarrassed I felt.

I told, my shiny little friend, about the class, when the teacher scolded me for something which I hadn’t done. It so happened that when I was carrying my lunch tray to the counter tray, he pushed me from behind. All the things went scattering about. My chest and chin struck the floor and I felt a terrible pain in the jaw. But my teacher didn’t scold him, she said I had been careless and intentionally dropped it.

I told him about the time after school, when the bus was dropping us all at our homes. I never knew why Uncle Phil always dropped me the last. He always would hand me a bar of chocolate and talk with me. He would tell me stories while he drove around and dropped them one by one at home. My teacher Miss Jane always said we shouldn’t talk to strangers. She told us not to let anyone touch us in the places where we don’t like.

But Uncle Phil was not a stranger, he was very very nice to me. Once, during those days when he used to drop me home early, he left me near my house and told me to enter the house quickly. When I walked to the door and turned the knob, I found it locked. Uncle Phil said, Wait for mom sweetie. She must be around the corner. I have to drop all of them and it is already very late.

I was scared but I nodded my head and sat near the doorstep. I saw him drive away the bus speedily. I sat fumbling with my things and the grass. Suddenly, I saw a young and good looking man pass by. I looked at him, he seemed so nice and decent. He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. He had walked away. I got back to pulling the grass.

Hey pretty girl! I heard a voice. He was standing there. He asked me to come to him. I started walking towards him. He held my hand and caressed it in a very strange manner. Suddenly I felt uncomfortable and scared. Just then, I saw my school bus returning. Uncle Phil stopped the bus near me. The door opened and he said firmly, Amanda, get in!

I was extremely happy to see him again and I rushed in. Then he asked me if I knew that man. When I said no, he said I shouldn’t talk to strangers or even get near them. He told mother about it. She told him, she couldn’t come earlier home and so, Uncle Phil always dropped me last. He was like Grandpa. Always caring and adorable. Always concerned and loving towards all of us.

I told the moon about him everyday. I told him how I went down to dinner and saw my parents fight. They had nothing to tell me or to listen from me, but they had time to get nasty at each other. They had time to argue after they sent me back to the room. They had time to go out for official dinners but couldn’t have a peaceful dinner with me. Mom and Dad were busy in mailing, chatting or planning for the week ahead, but they had not a moment to spend with me while they were home at weekends.

I had all these stories to tell him. I was always nervous and scared when Mom or Dad were around. But with moon shining high I always felt so comfortable. I had no friends, I didn’t want them. They had so many stories about how they spent their weekend, their evenings, their holidays, their shopping time, their dinner time and so on. While I had nothing to tell them!

Sometimes, I told my dear friend moon, to call me to him. Maybe if I was up there like one of those stars, I would feel closer to my friend. And maybe some girl, some other Amanda may need me to hear to her stories. I wished that God would make it possible. I prayed to God to make me a star when I would return to heaven, so that I would never feel so lonely as I felt now, in my home, with my parents. Parents who brought me into existence but did not seem to need or love me. My dear friend Moon was always there to listen to my stories and then bid me Good night.

With tears in eyes and prayers on lips, slowly I would drift to slumber.

S.F.R.

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