We’ve agreed that today is Bituun, the Dark Moon, White Moon’s Eve on our new planet. There was debate in the house: Should we honour Earth’s calendar? Should we rely on the lunar cycle of the home we’d left light-years away? My husband, Gantungla, argued that we should adapt our traditions to this new planet. And his voice was heard. But there will be no white moon tomorrow, only a pale sliver of green, faint in the sky.
“Amar baina uu? Amar baina uu?” The girls laugh as they practice White Moon’s greeting.
“Hush,” I tell them. “It is tomorrow you must say it.”
“And will Baldanlham visit the house tonight?” they ask.
“If you leave ice on the balcony for her mare.”
They’re excited. They’ve adjusted well to this new world but they miss the ways of the old. “Amar baina uu, ’eh?”
“Yes, I am. Now go and change. Get ready for temple.”