Sometimes Sweet

The Moon

Every evening around dusk, Sean and I will go to the dining room windows and look for the moon. Last night, in North Texas, it was a spectacular golden orb that hung so low and heavy over the city that it looked as though it might fall right out of the sky. “Moon out!” he exclaimed in a stage whisper, then “Shhhh,” putting his finger to his lips seeming to understand that some things are best observed in silence.

I watched Sean as he watched the moon, his baby profile a study in twilight. Ever the teacher, I explained to him that this was the very same moon that mommy gazed upon as a little girl. And even Grandma and Grandpa when they were little looked up at this moon. And Noah, as he rocked and rocked on the waves in the ark with all the animals must have looked out the window to admire this moon. But how do you convey the concept of ancient to someone whose world is brand new?

Without taking his eyes from the window, he whispered, “Moon out. Shhhh.” And so we quietly sat there and marveled at the majestic harvest moon because some things are best observed in silence.

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