I’ve always been a little mad for the moon.
When the moon was full, I’d lie there until I was sure I could make out its face.
The kids at school liked to say that the moon was made of green cheese, but I knew that was silly because the moon wasn’t green. Anybody could see that. Yellow cheese, maybe.
Once, late at night, I stood on the beach with some other people from the neighborhood and watched a lunar eclipse. I stood there, still as can be, until the last tiny sliver faded away into the darkness.