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Luna’s favorite memory of her childhood, of the time before her mother died, was the rainy afternoon where she first understood love.
She had just been woken up from a nap in the gardens. The Weeping Willow that had been keeping her dry for some hours had built up too many tears and started crying uncontrollably, dousing her with water and waking her rather suddenly.
She had fallen asleep in the bright sunlight of a lazy summer afternoon, so waking up to an angry sky many hours later had felt like stepping into another, slightly unreal, world.
The kitchen door to her house was open, revealing a fire in the hearth. It was uncharacteristic for her parents to light a fire the summer months, but the rain seemed to call for the small comfort of warmth.
Luna ran towards the door with her bare feet squishing in the soft earth. She grabbed the big bronze handle of the heavy wooden door and slammed it behind her.
Her parents jumped at the sound. They had been sitting at the kitchen table with big mugs of tea, leaning slightly against each other, watching the fire together in silence.
When she got older, Luna would realize that they had been on the precipice of a kiss, but, being young, the only thought in her head at the time was annoyance that they had not come to get her outside before it had started raining.
Her mother chuckled, “You’re all wet, little one.”
Luna only harrumphed and tracked mud into the kitchen in defiance.
Suddenly, her clothes were magically dry and warm, like they’d just been washed. Her hair was brushed and braided down her back. Thick, hand knitted socks appeared on her feet. Her mother scooped her up into her arms and kissed her forehead.
Not wanting to seem easily comforted, she kept her arms crossed and head down, even though, secretly, she felt instantly better.
Her father approached the pair, vanishing the footprints hastily (leaving a faint outline of dirt behind). He hugged Luna from the opposite side of her mother, squishing her in between the two of them.
“The moon is showing us her dark side today,” he said, softly.
“It was raining,” Luna said, “and you didn’t come get me.”
“You just looked so peaceful out there, like a little nature fairy,” her mother said.
Luna crinkled up her nose. “Fairies are mean. You’re mean. If you really loved me, you would have come get me.”
Now, this phase had been used a hundred other times in a hundred other ways. For example, “If you really loved me, you’d let me eat a fourth cookie” or “if you really loved me, you’d take me fishing for plimpies instead of go to work” or “If you really loved me, you would let me stargaze at one in the morning in the dead of winter.”
Never before had that struck such a sour note with her parents. They immediately stiffened, and her mother’s arms tightened around her. She was carried to the kitchen table and settled into her mother’s lap.
“Of course we love you, Luna,” her mother said into her hair.
Her father sat down as well and put his hand on her head.
“We love you more than there are leaves on an ancient oak, or pebbles on a mountain, or stars in the sky,” he said.
“I don’t feel like it though,” Luna said.
“What do you think love feels like?” her father asked.
“I don’t know, Daddy. Not like this.”
Her mother shifted in her seat, “Not this, you say? Not like a warm fire? Not hugs from your parents? Of course we love you. We let you sleep because you were tired. We didn’t forget about you. We will never forget about you, and you never forget about us. That’s what love is.”
Luna hesitated for a bit and then nodded and fell back into her mother’s chest and snuggled into her potion stained overalls. Her father keep softly petting her head. A comfortable silence fell on them. The rain tinkled on the leaded glass windows. The fire crackled. Her parents sipped their tea, and Luna drifted back to sleep.
Whenever Luna felt alone or scared or sad, she would remember her mother’s words. She was loved. She was cared for. She was never forgotten.
Her mother would never ever be forgotten. Long after she died, Luna remembered her mother. She remembered her soft smiles and sharp eyes. She remembered the explosions in the basement. She remembered gingerbread for breakfast and pancakes for dinner. She remembered the love.