“Look at the moon. It’s bright.” Kojo says.
He always notices first. His neck is used to being bent looking up at the adults towering over him all the time.
The moon is claiming its space in the cloudless early evening blue sky. We’ve been watching for a few days now. It’s been growing quickly. On Saturday it looked almost perfectly cut in half. Today it looks like it will soon be a full moon.
As we travel down the new road past Amazing Grace’s and the tiny mosque, we feel it following us. It reminds us of our position in space and signals to us that time is passing. I’ve thought about a lot of things today. I’ve worried about the busy week ahead. I’ve been looking down for most of the day.
“Look at the moon. It’s moving.” Kojo points up again.
We pass the dripping water spout, a little boy running with an empty fabric spool, the armless mannequin in the shop window, and the goatless blue house on the corner. The moon brightens a bit against the slowly darkening sky.
It’s still there as we climb up the stairs to our front door. I help Kojo take off his dusty shoes before entering the house. It’s time to fix dinner, feed the cat, take a bath, and think some more.
“Let’s sit outside for a little bit longer.” I suggest as I drop his shoes one by one on the worn down mat by the metal chair.
We watch the light reflecting off the moon’s surface making it look like it’s coming in and out of focus. One edge looks brighter than the other. It’s so perfectly round. There is nothing interrupting our view. My breathing and my mind slow down.