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YOUR CART

Heather Qin

My Mother Teaches Me How to Stargaze

            Before I was born, my parents’ first accident was
the day after they bought insurance. So as a child 
 
            I was always afraid of cars, thought the moon was
chasing us each time my mother drove me home
 
            from swimming lessons. She bought too many toys
when I was born, so moving to Jersey meant 
 
            months of packing. The night we were supposed to leave, she 
showed me a photo of the Chinese restaurant we ate at 
 
            every week and tried to shape it into something I could 
keep. Retold the stories of the Monkey King in a language
 
            I could remember so I would never be afraid 
of all the places I had yet to visit. Then, when it was dark 
 
            enough, she tried to show me the Big Dipper but all I could see 
was the moon spilling over the big, black trees 
 
            as I pointed at the stars and mistook them 
for airplanes. She said isn’t it amazing, that there are so many
 
            people flying, up there, people flying
a million miles away? A few evenings each year, for as many years
 
            as we can remember, the night air will swell with cicadas & the 
clouds will limp all the way from Chicago to remind me
 
            what winter means. I still can’t find
the Big Dipper in this New Jersey sky, the stars playing hide and seek 
 
            with the blotted skyline. My mother will always feel when I am
staring at the stars, watching the space between them, ready to see.
March / April  2023

Barbara Daniels
Heather Qin (she/her) is a student from New Jersey. Her work has been recognized by the New York Times, the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, Breakbread Literary Magazine, Columbia College Chicago, and can be found in Kissing Dynamite and The Shore. Besides writing, Heather loves classical music and reading.
Art: Aiyana Masla. Cleanse. Watercolor
  
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