Flaming Skin and Gentle Moon

Sun

She’s lying in the backyard listening to the wind chimes sing and watching the suncatcher glow. It’s her sixth birthday, and she enjoys spending her mornings outside, the wind playing with her soft, poofy hair. She giggles at the bird who speaks to her in amusing tones. How wonderful it is to converse with them.

“Good morning, Dahlia!” Mr. Man shouts over the fence from next door.

Dahlia gets up and jumps a few inches in the air, so that she can see Mr. Man’s face. 

“Good! Morning! Mr. Man!” Dahlia shouts with each jump.

Mr. Man laughs heartily as he goes back to pruning the young magnolia tree. Dahlia loves being outside in the morning when the sun isn’t too harsh. The itchy hives and inflammation come and go, and today, it's been on its best behavior, only being somewhat of a nuisance. She hears footsteps approaching from inside the sliding door. 

“Oh no! Better go in!” she says, knowing Daddy will be mad if he sees her lying in the grass. But before Dahlia can run inside, Daddy slides the door open, concern written all over his face. 

“Dahlia! Didn’t I tell you to not be outside for very long? You know what happens when you’re not careful. Come inside now.” He rubs his chin, scuffing up his beard more than it already is. 

“But it’s my birthday!” Dahlia argues, dramatically pouting her lips and crossing her arms.

Daddy closes his eyes and shakes his head. 

“I know honey, but we don’t want your day to be ruined. Plus, we gotta go to the doctor. Hurry and eat your breakfast. Mommy’s already gotten your clothes out.” He turns around and walks back inside, leaving the sliding door open. Dahlia doesn’t move. 

“Now, Dahlia.” He says sternly over his shoulder as he disappears into the house. 

Dahlia groans, says goodbye to Birdy, and follows Daddy inside. 

The house smells of maple syrup and orange juice. Dahlia feels her mouth fill with saliva as she skips into the kitchen, instantly forgetting about her backyard adventures. Daddy’s flipping the last of the pancakes and grins as it lands on the plate perfectly. Dahlia scurries to the dining room table, where Mommy is already sitting, drinking the nasty hot stuff that smells really good. Mommy looks up from her book and smiles, her smooth dark skin absorbing the sunlight illuminating her from the window. Dahlia smiles back. Daddy comes into the dining room, a perfect stack of brown pancakes in one hand, and blueberry maple syrup in the other. He sits it on the table, and they pile their plates. All Dahlia can hear is everyone’s chewing over the light record playing in the background. One of Mommy’s braids takes a dip into the syrup, and Daddy quickly rescues it, tucking it behind her ear. She smiles at him, but can’t say anything because her mouth is full of breakfast. 

Dahlia’s in the big seat behind Mommy and Daddy. Mommy picked out Dahlia’s favorite yellow dress and red sandals, which match the red and yellow headband that’s pushing Dahlia’s afro from her face. Daddy is driving to Ms. Doctor for Dahlia’s skin condition. Normally, she would be scared, because Ms. Doctor always gives her shots and tries to distract her with lollipops. But Dahlia’s fear is usually overpowered with excitement because they get to drive through a long road of beautiful trees and colorful houses. Dahlia wishes she could live in the big green house that they are passing now. But that isn’t the best part. The best part is when Dahlia gets to go to the ice cream shop afterwards for being a good girl. She can’t wait for the cookies and cream cone she’s going to get today. 

Today’s visit takes longer than usual. She can hear Mommy and Daddy talking in the hallway with Ms. Doctor. They don’t sound happy. Dahlia can hear many big words she doesn’t understand, but she knows Mommy and Daddy will explain it to her later. 

“ .. photosensitivity....”

“.... are you saying that....”

“Polymorphous Light Eruption...”

“On top of the albinism?” 

“ .... stay inside...”

“...Ok, thank you, doctor.” 

The door opened as Mommy and Daddy came inside, worry written all over their faces. Mommy tries to smile, but Dahlia can tell it's fake. They all leave the office in silence, and get into the car, and head to the ice cream parlor. 

As Dahlia tells the ice cream people what she wants, she can hear Mommy and Daddy in the background, sitting at the table furthest away from the window. When one of the ice cream people hands her the cone, she thanks her and runs over to the table. Mommy and Daddy get quiet and glance at each other. 

“Don’t you want ice cream?” Dahlia says, shoving her cone in Mommy’s face. 

“Not today, sweetheart,” Mommy responds. She clears her throat. “Dahlia, sweetie. Remember how a long time ago we talked about how your skin is a little different from our skin?” 

“Cuz I’m pale and you're not?” Dahlia asks. 

“Yeah, but mostly the difference lies in how much sun you can tolerate,” Daddy chimes in. 

“Today, the doctor told us that there’s a reason for why your skin gets really itchy and inflamed. You have something called Polymorphous Light Eruption, or PMLE,” Mommy says. 

“Pee eluh ee?” Dahlia asks with curiosity. 

“Yeah, PMLE. It means that the sun causes extreme irritation. Those rashes that you get are caused by the sun. And, you have severe PMLE. Which means, overtime your symptoms will get worse and worse.” 

Dahlia doesn’t like where this is going. 

“What’s that mean?” She asks, although she already knows. 

Daddy looks concerningly at Dahlia. “No more outside time for now. We’ll have your birthday party inside the house today. You have to be protected. Don’t worry, honey, we are going to buy tents and shade for the backyard. And we’ll invest in some really good sunscreen. We will get you back outside in the sun one day.” 

Family drives home in silence. Dahlia peaks through the tinted windows at the sun, hoping to receive a warm hug one day. She hopes to see Birdy again soon. 

Moon

Dahlia sits on the back porch and stares at the moonlit lawn and fireflies speckling the space between the ground and sky. It’s her eighty-sixth birthday. She longs for the shaded birthday parties that Mother and Father used to gift her. It’s been a long time since she’s seen either of their faces. She’s spent a lifetime hiding from the sun, watching from in between the blinds as the birds sing to each other in her absence. She watched as Mr. Man evolved into a withered old version of himself until he stopped coming outside anymore. She watched the neighborhood kids play on their tricycles, and then bikes, and then cars until they no longer graced the streets with their wheels. She watched as Mother and Father grew old and sick, until Father was gone, with Mother not far behind. Their kindness was never forgotten by Dahlia as she warmly accepted the house in their absence. And as Dahlia grew old from inside, everyday, she put on her sunglasses and watched the sun rise from behind the tinted glass, missing the soft kiss of sunlight on her skin before the burn. But this birthday would be different from the last eighty-five. She decides that she’ll stay on the porch until the sun rises. She wants to feel the sun one last time before she stops looking out the window, wishing that she could bathe in the light. There will be no more hoping and wishing on her end. She will learn to accept the hard truth. 

Over the years, Dahlia learned that the only way she could experience the sun was through the reflection of the moon. And she learned to love it and was in awe, observing every phase. She loves that she can stare directly at its soft, nurturing light. And on this eighty-sixth birthday, she learns that her yearning for the sun was an unappreciation for the gift that the moon has tried to give her. 

The breeze is light as it plays with her soft, poofy hair and caresses her wrinkled skin. The moths and fireflies dance around the sky, appearing bioluminescent in the faint, hazy light. 

In the distance, Dahlia sees two faces that look like Mother and Father. Dahlia gasps as she jumps from her porch chair, her body no longer aching. She looks down, and sees that her body has shrunk and her skin has tightened. She is six again, and Mommy and Daddy are stretching their hands out to her. She giggles and runs towards them, tears falling down her cheeks. 

“We are going to watch the sunrise before we go, Dahlia,” Mommy whispers, the wind carrying the sound into Dahlia’s ears. 

They sit in the grass, and watch the Luna moths and fireflies turn into morning chirps and slick dew. And as the sun peaks over the horizon, Dahlia smiles, the warmth of the sun filling her body as she, Mommy, and Daddy melt into the rays.