After that beautiful solar eclipse last Monday, I’ve been reminiscing about my childhood, and my love for the moon.
Dad had a telescope and many summer nights were spent with us looking at the moon and planets. I was so in awe with it all.
This was in the late 60s, but his telescope was pretty powerful. We could see the craters on the moon, and Dad taught me to know the difference between planets and stars. The stars, even with the telescope still looked the same, but the planets were different.
I could see the orange of Mars and the rings around Saturn. I loved it all and miss those sweet times terribly.
So today, in memory of my dad, I have painted a “self-portrait” of me as a child, and wrote a poem about my life-time fascination with the moon.
The Big Ball in the Sky
Every night after my bath and before I say my prayers,
I run to the window to see if it’s there.
It sits on nothing and just hangs out in the air,
I ask it to come closer, but it doesn’t dare.
I want to take that ball and bounce it to the stars,
If I were big, I know I could throw it that far.
It’s sometimes big, sometimes yellow, but sometimes white,
it’s really bright like one giant flashlight.
Shining right through my window and into my room,
Daddy says it’s called the moon.
It watches over us, and lights up the night sky,
It goes away when the sun sits high.
But when night falls, it will come back to me,
and once again, shine its light for me to see.
(In Memory of Bill Hester 3/21/33 – 8/28/07)