“I should have set a better example.” Her voice sounds a state away.
“Stop fretting over a past that can’t be changed. We all make mistakes. The important thing is that we don’t let those mistakes define us.” I stand and squeeze her hand. “Remember, I’m meeting up with my friends after school today, so I’ll be home a bit later than usual.” We usually get together on Mondays, but today is a special gathering for the new moon.
Mom shows no signs of having heard a word I’ve spoken. My heart sinks.
“Okay, Mom.” With a frown permeating my soul, I kiss her cheek. “Love you,” I whisper and turn to leave for school. Brave the cold and fog.
The school day passes with the speed of a never-ending, snooze-fest-worthy commercial. The rain does nothing to lift my spirits. The life within me reignites when I dash from campus and head towards James’s house for group discussion. The discussion group is actually a small, three-person coven, but since I have spread my roots in Algiers, making the place my home, that small coven has become my extended family. It’s me, Jeanna, and James, and we are stumbling through our magickal learning process together. We share do’s and don’ts we’ve each learned within the craft. Without a proper mentor, it’s the best thing we’ve got. If we run into a serious craft crisis—which has yet to happen—my grandma will step in and help.
Moving up to the front of James’s house, I raise my hand to knock, and the door flies open before my skin can connect with the wood.
“Saw you through the window.” Jeanna points to the large front window. She has her hair pulled back, emphasizing her darker roots. Blonde threads streak the length of the ponytail springing from the tight knot at the top of her head.
“You got here fast.” I tug on my backpack strap. I came straight from school and didn’t run into either James or Jeanna on my walk. On Mondays, I usually find them waiting for me by the school parking lot. After not finding them there today, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Of course, it’s Wednesday, and not Monday.
She grabs my arm and yanks me inside. Closes the door. “For no given reason, we got let out of P.E. early. Guess coach had better things to do. Not that I’m complaining.” She drags me toward the kitchen.
“Yeah,” James says from someplace unseen in the kitchen. Jeanna and I round the corner, bringing him into view. He’s setting out three black mugs for our new-moon tea. “Since we got out early, Jeanna and I had time to discuss the results from our last spell. Are we correct in assuming the results haven’t been all that splendid?”
My body rises and falls with a heavy sigh. “It would appear that an emotional unbinding is not what my mom needs.”
“So, we’ll try something else,” Jeanna says.
“Totally will,” James blurts. “We are not giving up. We shall be relentless in our determination.” He pours the water from the teapot into each of the awaiting mugs. Pushes two across the counter toward Jeanna and me. “Made the tea myself,” he says. “Used all ingredients from my own garden.”
“I would expect nothing less.” Jeanna raises her mug, blows across the surface, and takes a sip. Closes her eyes and sighs.
I take a sip from my own mug. “Is that honey I taste?”
“Yeah. I added a touch of raw honey after allowing all the ingredients to steep for about fifteen minutes.” He raises his mug to his lips and sips.
“It’s delish.” I motion toward the back door. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” James leads the way, and we all head outside. Take a seat on the back porch. Sit in silence with our tea and our thoughts, contemplating our wishes for the current new moon. This is our time of reflection and introspection. Each new moon, I focus my intentions for the coming month of moon phases. Center my thoughts around my mom’s physical and emotional state. So far, nothing has improved her state.
I sip my tea, close my eyes, and listen to the drome of the earth. The pitter-patter of the barely-there rain. It’s a hypnotic, soothing rhythm.
These next thirty days, I‘ll shift my attention toward Miri’s coming union with Philip. To their possible blooming family. And, to the protection and health—mental and physical—of all my family members.
James taps me on the shoulder, and I twist my view to him. He stands over me, smile bright, holding a white candle for the taking.
“Thanks.” I accept the candle and push to a stand.
James hands Jeanna a candle, and we each walk to separate locations in the yard. At three different and distant spots in the small outdoor space, we have our own unique and simple altars. I place my white candle on my flat-topped stone shrine. Using the edge of my sleeve, I wipe down my ritual space. Brush any dirt or dust away.
Kneeling beside the stone, I meditate on the choices I’ve made for the coming month. I cover and light my candle, thank the universe, and meditate some more.
When we have completed our new moon meditation, we retreat to the house and gather around the kitchen table with refreshed mugs of tea. James hands out towels, and we dab at the dampness of our hair. Raking his fingers through his bangs, he fluffs his messy, frosted curls.
“My sister is getting married next month,” I say matter-of-factly. “I’d like to give her a special string of beads to bless her union… and possible expected baby.”
“Birthing beads?” Jeanna asks.
“Blessing beads, more than birthing beads,” I reply. “Though, nothing says they can’t serve a dual purpose. Anyway, I’d love it if each of you would contribute a few endowed beads.”
“Consider it done.” James leans into the table. “Any sister of yours is a sister to all of us.” He sits back and wipes his hand down the front of his
