Hilary Moon Murphy

I see the Moon and the Moon sees Me

When we ask Cassie who loves her, she answers, "Mommy and Daddy. And Grandma. And Moon!"

The Moon is one of Cassie's special friends. It follows her home on car rides, playing hide and seek in the trees. It sings songs that only she can hear -- songs that she sings back to us if we're lucky. She loves to spin and dance under its light, or gaze at it in silence from Mommy or Daddy's lap.

A few weeks ago it was the new Moon. We were going to dinner when Cassie looked up at the sky and said, "Where's Moon?"

There was a tiny bit of panic in her voice. Almost every other time that we had gone out, the Moon had been there for her. Saying "Hello, Moon!" and "Goodbye, Moon!" was a ritual that happened before entering the car most evenings.

I did not know what to say, so I said, "Where do you think the Moon is?"

She scrunched up her forehead in thought, and then her face cleared. "Moon's asleep. She was tired and got her blanket and pillow."

It was as good an explanation as anything I could have come up with. Now the Moon is back, playing with Cassie in the evenings. On the way home tonight, Cassie and I paused before getting in the car. There was a break in the clouds, and a moon beam shone down on us and us alone.

Cassie looked up and smiled. "That's my buddy," she said.

Some friendships deserve to have their own poems.

"Playdate with the Moon"
written for Cassie 1/23/2002

The Moon spins songs of orbits,
love, tides, and women's flow.
My daughter hears its music
and tells me all I need to know.

The Moon knows special games:
follow the leader, peek-a-boo,
how to listen to your secrets,
shining answers back to you.

My daughter waves to the Moon:
one friend high, one friend low,
yet no space between them,
two faces -- one gentle glow.

They say the Moon's reflected light,
but I know why it shines so bright.

Hmm