Packing for the Moon

by Dean Francis Alfar

Sam’s eyes are closed, her small frame propped up against trays and covered gold serving dishes of fruit, vegetables,
three pillows. and dainty sugary treats; teakwood chests filled with formal
clothes in case the moon was cold, as well as an astounding
“Sam?” I knock softly at her door. “Are you sleeping number of parasols, fans and handkerchiefs in case the
already?” moon was untowardly warm; plus an exhaustive list of the
princess’ favorite entertainers, in case the moon turned out
Her eyes bolt open and her face breaks into a smile. “Dad,” to be boring, including acrobats, singers, falconers,
she laughs. “If I were asleep then you’d have woken me up.” storytellers, and the Chief Vizier’s little boy who played Go
very well (he knew enough to always lose).
I nod in agreement and sit on her bed. “You have to, soon.
Big day tomorrow.” But with everything piled into the small rocket ship, there
simply was no room for the princess. Her father, finally
“I know,” she answers, expelling a sigh. “But I get a story, showing some backbone, canceled the trip and that was the
right?” She blinks her brown eyes once, twice. end of that.

“No need for the puppy-dog look, Sam,” I tell her while Sam crinkles her nose. “What a silly girl.”
rolling my eyes. “You get all the stories you want.”
“Why?” I ask, returning the book to the bottom of her night
“Maybe just one for tonight, Dad,” she says, stifling a yawn. table.
“I’m kind of tired.”
“Well, she took too many things with her,” Sam says with
“Okay, let me get the book.” For the past six months, since conviction. “I’d take only what was really important. Let’s
her seventh birthday, we’ve been making our way through make a list, Dad. You know, of really important things to
Stories From Around the World, the hefty hardcover that I take. You make one and I make one.”
ordered online for her. “Now, where were we?”
“We will when we get back from the hospital, okay?”
“China,” she says. “We read the Lantern Story and the Fishy
story... and the one about the Wall. That was cool.” “Okay,” she mock-frowns before breaking into a smile. “I
love you, Dad.”
I find our place in the book. “Well,” I say, looking at the
illustration. “We could try another country.” “I love you, Sam.” I kiss her three times, once on each side
of her face and once on her forehead. I look at my little
“No, no,” she says. “Let’s finish China. What’s the title of fighter of a daughter and wish her the best dreams on earth.
the next one?”
***
“The Princess and the Moon.” I show her the painting of a
princess and what looks like a fireworks-powered rocket Our projected overnight stay at the hospital extends into four
ship. days when her doctors order more tests; into two weeks
when all of the tests say that the cancer has returned; into
“Looks good.” She shifts position on the bed, squinting her three months when they determine that it is only a matter of
eyes like she does when she’s concentrating — my cue to time.
get started.
She will get better. Because she’s Sam. Because she’s, my
One of the things I love doing for Sam most is telling her daughter. Because I believe she will. She’s a fighter, my
stories. I clear my throat and begin to read, giving voice to little fighter. She’s tougher than any kid I know. I know she
the petulant princess who demanded from her father a trip to will make it. There is no doubt in my mind. There can be no
the moon. I speak for the imperial advisors, who tell her that doubt.
the trip was impossible, that many many things will be
needed and that the moon is no place for a young girl, much The last time I see Sam, her breathing is slow and she
less the princess of the empire. cannot open her eyes. I sit next to her and tell her every
story I can remember, all her favorites as well as the ones
I tell Sam how the princess stamped her feet and held her she didn’t really like.
breath until everyone gave way, and how the rocket ship
was built, with firecrackers for propulsion — pausing to I talk and do the voices of peasant boys and princesses and
show her the illustration again, which made her laugh and talking horses and everyone lets me, until hospital protocol
say “I get it, Dad.” requires them to take her away from me.

I enumerate all the things that were needed to keep the I cannot stop. I do not want to stop.
princess safe and secure, well-fed and well-clothed, as well
as entertained: crates full of marvelous mechanical soldiers I drown instead, when the heaviness becomes too much, too
armed to the teeth with various miniature weapons; silver real, too soon.
*** I see the big book at the bottom of her night table and pick it
up.
The house feels empty. My heart insists that she’s watching
TV in the den, or reading a book upstairs, or brushing her There is a piece of paper sticking out, in the section of
teeth in the bathroom. China, at the end of “The Princess and the Moon.”

I sleep on the couch. I sleep for days. Until sleep retreats It’s a list. I only manage to read the first few items before
completely. my eyes become useless.

I climb the stairs and stand at the door of her bedroom. My Important Things To Pack For The Moon
hand on the doorknob is shaking. Let her be inside. Let her
be in bed, with her feet snug and warm under the comforter. Dad
Let her be sleeping. Or awake. Let her be. Air
Spacesuits
She’s not inside.

I don’t know how long I sit on her bed, feeling the

hollowness inside me expand. I bury my face in her pillows.
---End---