This is the story of how the moon became the moon
And the sun became the sun
And how a lonely cloud appeared
Lost, between the day and the night.
Our trip to the province of Aurora wouldn’t be complete without the usual exchange of superstitious beliefs.
“Bite the burial vault if it is your first time paying your aunt a visit,” a relative whispered to me in the cemetery. “Or else, her spirit will follow you to the house... and appear in your dreams!”
My Aunt Lucy was a distant relative who just passed away this year, and even though we barely spoke to each other because I was only in the province during summer, I still felt bad when I learned her diabetes worsened from consuming too much soft drinks.
Although I was skeptical that the spirit of an old woman I barely spoke with would bother paying me a visit, I still made an effort to make the adults feel that I appreciate their ‘advice’.
