Wednesday, November 24, 2010

The Moon, The Sun, and Everything in Between

"Da MOOON, da MOOOON!" my son exclaims, his little pointer finger poking up towards outer space. He peers out of the car window, into the pitch black night, clutching his stuffed monkey in his left hand.

"Hol, hol!" he yells, his eyes lit up as if the moon has embodied him.

"You want to HOLD the moon?" I ask, laughing, already sure of the answer.

"Yesh!" he shouts.

"But the moon is way up in the sky."

"Oh noooooooooooo," he moans. "Reach! Reach!"

"You can't reach it," I try to explain.

"Mommy reach!" he pleads.

"I can't reach it either. It's way up in the sky."

"Daddy reach?" he suggests.

"Daddy does have long arms . . . .but, Daddy can't reach it either."

"Noooo," he sighs.

"Should we try?" I ask, again sure of the answer.


I extend my arms up towards the sun roof. If I could just pluck the moon out of the sky and hand it to my little stargazer, I'd gladly do it.

We turn on his stuffed turtle at bedtime, which projects the constellation on his ceiling in blue, green, or yellow. "Da MOOON!" he shrieks.

"Hey Galileo, show Monkey where the moon is," my husband suggests. He stands up in his crib with Monkey in his outstretched right hand, like the Statue of Liberty holding her torch. Monkey's smile seems to grow a bit wider. Monkey catches the magic.

It reminds me of one time when I was home from college for Thanksgiving weekend. Ready for bed, I turned off the lights in my bedroom and my entire ceiling lit up shockingly like Times Square. My sister and her boyfriend (now my brother-in-law) had drawn pictures and notes to me in glow-in-the-dark chalk just for fun. I laughed myself to sleep under the majestic misshapen stars and doodles of Snoopy and Bart Simpson. Not only did I refuse to erase their "masterpiece," but my parents sold the house with my ceiling artwork about a year later to an unsuspecting buyer. It was no Michelangelo but, hey, to me it was magic.

Last night, there was a spectacular rare blue moon in the sky. My son almost "took a heart attack," as they say in South Philadelphia, when he spotted it through the high window in our living room's cathedral ceiling.

"Da mooooooooooon!"

And we had the same conversation that we have almost every night. Hol! You want to hold the MOON? Yesh!

I don't know what it is, but there is something so sweet and innocent and charming about a baby wanting to hold the moon and the sun and everything that is beautiful in nature that makes me want to stop and see things again, as if for the first time. It makes me want to jump up and down, laugh a maniacal laugh like he does, clap my hands, and feel a bit of that joy.

So, whether you have glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, or clouds fogging your view, take a moment and see - feel - remember - what's out there. A whole universe waiting to be discovered.

Don't let the magic pass you by.

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