moon walk nineteen sixty-nine

sophia flicks on a thick silver knob, the floor tv crackles to life buzzing. it is speckled with white, grey and black. static. sophia adjusts bunny ears wrapped in foil until faces clear and voices break.

granny shakes her head

it’s like the dreams in my head… only clearer.

history is being made, granny.


with that, granny’s face shrinks in laughter. rich in irony. perhaps sarcasm.

at nasa, a rocket-ship blasts off into space


granny, the final frontier!

is it really – final?

that’s what they say about space, granny.

hmph! what are they doing with that thing?


granny lifts one cheek off her chair. a fart squeaks out against the vinyl. granny laughs so hard that her eyes disappear behind layers of thinning skin.

on tv: a thin blue layer covers the sphere of this earth. the rocket with it’s sharp needle nose breaks through this layer. granny gasps and sits back hard, almost falling backwards off the chair.

her thick veined hand covers her mouth and her eyes go big as the tears rise above the rim without spilling over till she squeezes the lids shut and tears flow down the well-known creases.


what have they done?

they’re travelling to the moon today.


granny watches the rocket as it blasts out blue flames that turn to a red after glow. the rocket pushes against the air in a fiery fit


what have they done?


granny wrings her hands, sparks sweetgrass, burns sage, holds tobacco in a tight hand, whips cedar branches on shoulders, and does the sign of the cross.



this is not good. this is not good. did you see? did you?

it was a rocket, granny.

they broke it. they finally did it.

broke what, granny?

the sacred layer that protects us


sophia walks across the floor, pushes the knob on the tv. the screen turns black then closes in on itself to a small white circle. still buzzing.


granny, they’re gonna walk on the moon.

no, no, no. you don’t see.

oh granny, it’s time for your nap. you’re too excited.

sophia takes a black marker and circles the date and writes:

today, man walks on moon.

today, granny sees the future.


sophia cups the lingering sage smoke, spreading it all around her and her protruding belly. she looks out the window past the clouds.


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