Tonight We Crossed the Moon
We are walking to Northeast Middle School for my son, Dylan’s swimming lesson. There is a field of fresh snow before us and the wind has been busy making divots into its surface. The white pockets of snow resemble craters and the ground sparkles a silvery blue. It reminds me of the glitter I used to sprinkle on my mother’s nose as a kid while she dozed in her recliner in the early evening. And tonight, the snow is untouched by human footprints.
“Look we’re crossing the moon!” I say.
Dylan laughs at my silliness but he is willing to play along. He looks up at the real moon high above the sky, with its twisted orange lips hiding all expression. We step out onto the field and our boots crunch and sink down a few inches into the earth. The stars above blink on and off like a hotel vacancy sign. My lungs breathe in the cool air. Behind me, the street lights dim and the dark road empties of all cars. I feel a momentary lightness until our boots once again land onto the hard parking lot surface of the middle school.
1st place winner of the MinnPost short-shorts contest, 2010