Hang the Moon

by Jeannette Walls

Old Ida all the time says I think the Duke hung the moon and scattered the stars. Maybe I do. Right then, I sure did.

That’s what I’ve been doing since the Duke died, sitting in the darkness waiting for whatever has its own light to show itself.

It’s when the boss asks you to do something you know to be wrong and you do it anyways. That sort of work whittles away at the soul.

People who’ve never gone without find it easy to pass judgment on those who’ve struggled.

“When you can’t solve a problem and you can’t run from it and you can’t hide from it, you got to make it the other man’s problem.”

Sometimes the so-called law is nothing but the haves telling the have-nots to stay in their place.

There are two kinds of family, those you’re born into and those you put together from pieces that don’t go anywhere else, and this is one of those families. Five of us now. Like mismatched buttons that still keep your shirt closed.