It’s finally Halloween. Manchild has been telling us for days, if not weeks, that today is the day he is going to liftoff.
He’s going to the moon.
After he goes trick-or-treating, of course.
He’s told me I’ll need to have my phone ready, so he can call me.
And he’d really like a map so that he can figure out where he is once he comes back to earth.
There are so many possibilities: “I could land in Antarctica, or South America, Central America, or Africa. Maybe New Zealand, or Australia, the ocean, mountains under water, maybe Greenland. I might go on the North or South Pole. I might go anywhere . . . I’ll try to be careful, Mom. But I hope I will land in Utah, probably where your mom and dad live.”
(I’m sure Grandma and Grandpa would like that.)
I just hope he finds his way back home.
The moon would miss him.
And so would I.