Page 89 of Carson

My mom laughs at Luna’s rambling speech. “No. I haven’t eaten, but yes, I’m starving. My husband’s been sleeping in, and he’s the one who usually makes breakfast.”

“Oh, he can cook too,” Luna says, wagging her eyebrows up and down.

“Ew, no, stop right there.”

The two of them break out into a fit of laughter.

What the fuck is going on?

“I was just picking some flowers for the table with Khloe,” my mom says, picking up her basket.

I look around for my sister, knowing she’s hiding around here somewhere. “Where’s Khloe?”

My mom smiles at me.

“Khloeee,” I holler.

Little giggles come from a patch of sunflowers just off the path.

“Gosh, she must have run off with the fairies,” I say, putting my hands on my hips.

More giggles erupt before she comes barreling toward me. “Boo!” she yells.

I scoop her up in my arms, tossing her into the air before catching her.

“Have you met my new friend?” I ask her.

She shakes her head, tucking her face in my neck as she looks at Luna.

“Her name is Luna. Luna, this is the cutest little sister there ever was. Her name is Khloe.”

“Khloe, what a pretty name. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your brother told me a lot about you.”

My sister waves, but that’s all she is getting. Khloe is a little shy, but she’ll warm up to Luna eventually. I know she will.

I love that Luna doesn’t pressure her. I set Khloe on her feet and she runs inside, Tuffy hot on her heels.

Luna weaves her arm around my mom’s and begins to answer her questions as to how I got home last night.

“Hey, now. That’s private information. She has girlfriend rights, you know? She doesn’t have to answer.” I wag a finger in my mom’s face, and she laughs as if nothing’s changed.

But everything has changed.

Soon she won’t be able to hear me tell her how much I love her.

I hug her before she has a chance to walk away.

“I love you, Mom,” I rasp harshly in her ear, crushing her small frame against my chest.

Luna steps around us and begins to quietly set the table, giving us a moment to ourselves.

My mom pushes me away, wiping her eyes. “There, that was our moment, but now we shift perspective. Yes?”

I nod my head. “Yes, ma’am.”

This is classic mom. She’ll allow you to sit on your pity pot for a moment, maybe two, depending on the severity of the situation. But then she makes you find another way of looking at it. The good. It’s always there. It’s just sometimes harder to find than others.

“I would like to hear your voice as much as possible.”