Moon and Back Dear my dearest granddaughter, It’s your nana! I don’t know if someone is reading this to you or you are reading this yourself. So how have you been? I heard the doctor said you were getting better. I bet it’s true! I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for your news, and now I can’t wait for you to come home! (It took these doctors of yours nearly two weeks to answer my text message! Can you believe that?) I bet in a few days you’ll be writing me back all by yourself! Love you to the– “Moon and back, Nana” Tom put the letter on her nightstand and patted her shoulder tenderly. Tom was Cora’s favorite nurse. He was always the gentlest and most comforting. He was seventy-two, and he and his wife had two of his own kids who’d died both in a hurricane he’d experienced in his old life in the Bahamas. “Born and raised!” he would brag. Cora could only dream about living in the Bahamas. She dreamed about living in a house near the beach, where she would splash and play all day long. She would be as healthy as Tom. She would go to the market every day and meet new people. She would be happy. Silly girl. It was all just a dream. “That was nice of your Nana” Tom said. “I know MY Nana never visited, unless she wanted us to feed her.” Cora laughed. His words are as sweet as sugar, bouncing off his tongue, twirling in the air. She wanted him to stay with her forever. Tom looked at his watch. “It’s nine-thirty!” He exclaimed. “C’mon, you have to go to bed.” Tom tucked her in gently. “The doctor says, the more you sleep, the better. It may even have an effect on your cancer!” Cancer. Cora hated that word. Every time someone says it, it drills holes in her brain. It makes her head hurt. She feels…smaller. Tiny. Helpless. Even when Tom says it, the sugar on his tongue turns to bitterness. “You good?” Tom asks. “You look really…anxious.” Tom was right. Then again, Tom was right about everything. “I’m okay.” Cora pushes her head under her pillow. It made her feel safe. ”I’ll be right here if you need anything.” Tom sat down by the plate of Cora’s uneaten meatloaf, like he does every night, for the past month. He looks at the plate of uneaten food, and then reaches deep into his scrub pocket. Cora watches as he pulls out a piece of saltwater taffy, Cora’s favorite. He hands it to her, and she takes it from his coffee-colored palm. “Thank you.” Cora replied. The candy is delicious, and melts on her tender tongue. “May I?” Tom gestures to the meatloaf. “Anytime.” Cora replies, and giggles a bit. And before she knows it, she’s fast asleep, the taste of saltwater taffy lingering on her tongue. The end.
