Where They Meet

This morning my son asked me where the sun and the moon meet.

“They don’t” I slowly and carefully let him know.

My son quickly turned his head to me to watch my explanation set.

“The sun sends light to the moon and they see each other in their dreams.” I smiled to myself thinking that felt good. Feeling it was a decent compromise for something that I knew so truly could never ever in over 90 million miles actually happen. I thought, as my other children might say, I thought I ate that up.

My son’s fingers paused their freestyle dancing at the edge of my explanation.

Waiting to see if that was the final beat. My bean often moves while he is listening. A body in motion. I now watch him. His resting fingers have put me at rest. I wait.

“Then what is an eclipse?”

He begins motion again. Slipping fingers over a device where he has just taken a photo of himself. Examining it. Wondering if he will apply a filter. I am silent. Motion happening in my mind. Wonder. Love. Delight at his perspective.

I was in space. Floating. He was here. Grounded. I talk to him about my perspective as he uses the tips of his fingers to alter his fresh photo. Doing perspective.

And I hush. An eclipse moment. He rests again. Shows me the photo. “Do you like Noir mama?”


I look at the photo. I see where everything meets. Noir. Perspective.

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