things not made of cheese…

As we drove home tonight, the moon was round and large. The soft light shown on the roadway ahead of us and off the leaves and branches of the trees. Violet pointed to it, and I remembered the moon of my childhood. The Old Man on the Moon. I would look up at his face and wonder at his expression which seemed different every day; some days he was sad, on others he would be smiling ,but usually his expression was just benevolent. Sometimes when I was little, we would all take our blanket and pillows and sleep out in the yard. We’d stay up late and tell stories, try to find constellations, and look up at the face of the Man on the Moon. My mom would always sing this song, “I see the moon and the moon see’s me. God bless the moon, and God bless me…”


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