July, 1969

July 1969.

My father and I are home alone with the dog. My mother and cousins are at a teen dance in the Hampstead town gym, sponsored by the PTA. My mother is chaperone.  Night falls. The fields, with quiet cows, are dark. Insects call. There is a hint of skunk in the humid summer air.  We have been watching the news on the enclosed porch. The moon landing.  There are men on the moon.  We walk outside, followed by the dog, and look up. The full moon is rising over the trees. “Can you see them up there?” my father asks. We all squint at the moon, watching for movements and shadows. Man, daughter, dog stand in the moonlight, casting moon shadows, and join the millions world-wide staring at the moon.  “I think so,” I reply.