To the Moon
A few months before his third birthday, Hank comes into the living room where I’m working.
“Mama! You wanna see the moon?
He takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom where Dad is already looking out the window in the dark. Hank closes the door to block the light from the hall, and comes to the window with us.
“The moon!” he says.
“The moon!” we say.
It’s a bright crescent moon, high above the apartment buildings. Hank sighs, “I never gonna get to the moon. The moon is very far away. I don’t know what kind of spaceship I need.”
“Yeah, what kind of spaceship do you need?” I say.
He says, “A red one, I think.”
Bryan turns to him, “Yeah. Those are always faster.”