We crossed the road hand in hand.
The night loomed just around the corner, dusk already bidding its adieu.
The one whose small hand clutched mine looked up into the misty sky and declared, "It's a silver moon Mommy!"
A silver moon.
Poetic words coming from my three year old son.
My head tilted toward the night sky. It was dark, foggy and sure enough...there was a sliver of a silver moon.
"It is a silver moon! How beautiful."
The moon hung hazy and alone. Not a star in sight yet.
"But where's the Mommy and Daddy?"
"Where's the moon's Mommy and Daddy?"
"Yeah." His voice lilted and soft. His perfect profile stared up in perfect wonder at the soft, vague ceiling above us.
"Well, the moon doesn't have a Mommy and a Daddy honey. But I suppose the stars are his family. We just can't see the stars yet because of the fog in the sky." Oh do I love this age and how attached they get to everything having to have a Mommy and Daddy.
It shows just how incredibly important family is already becoming to them.
"But the stars are the moon's friends?"
"Sure they are." Friends, of-course, being another way of saying family. Don't we all consider our great friends family anyway? I do.
So of-course the stars are the moon's family and friends. Why not?
It's not like he's not at an age for an official astronomy lesson quite yet anyway.
And thank God for that.
'Cause I'm not at the brain capacity to teach one.