Goodnight Moon

By Cicily Bennion

July 4, 2022

Goodnight Moon

Surely, in his two and a half years of living he’s seen the moon. But he looks at it now like it’s the first time. He knows it, yes, but only from his books on the shelf, the ones I read on nights I’m home for bedtime, when the sun is on the horizon and the blinds are closed. He presses his nose to the glass. The moon is a celebrity; he can’t help but gawk. I sit to soak up his wonder, plant a kiss on his cheek, and point out a few stars in the sky––dim glimmers in this dusky view. He sees them and brightens. "How I wonder," he says, and recites the rest of the rhyme as if the words were his own.

The view from here isn’t much. Before us sit shopping centers on paved islands, a refinery, and the skyline of a city no one cares to write about. The dark curtain of night is yet to fall, and even when it does, the sky will remain foggy with the light of streetlamps below. So many stars obscured. Someday, I’ll take him to a place where the darkness is uninterrupted, and he’ll see why these stars and constellations were once important enough to name.

Days ago, a friend asked what it’s like to be a mom. "It’s good," I said. "And hard and fun. And when the days are long, I miss him." And then I was surprised to find myself weeping.

Cicily Bennion’s
work has been featured in Hotel Amerika, Under the Gum Tree, The Journal, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter @cicilybennion or learn more at

Image by kyoshino courtesy of Unsplash

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