4:30 p.m. on Thursday
Dad says, "Livvy, the full moon in North Dakota is beautiful. Yesterday, in Nebraska, I took a picture of the full moon at dusk. I used my little camera phone. I don't know how the picture turned out, or if it's even still on the phone somewhere. But the moon was perfect. Now, tonight, it's full dark in North Dakota, and the moon is shining."
Sidebar from Spokane: last night late I walked into the dark kitchen and saw the world outside the glass door glowing with a kind of translucent indigo. So of course I walked right outside in my bare feet and pajamas. The ground beneath me might as well have been the surface of the moon--that's how cold it was. I stood there, shivering for a moment and whistling for my dog Ginger, who bounded cheerfully through the sea of soft light and warmed me with a flurry of unsolicited licks.
I'm glad I don't have to travel all the way to Nebraska or North Dakota to get a look at the full moon. What a generous body it is, to share its light so freely. I'm glad my dad receives moonlight for free no matter where he is, and that he drinks it up like nectar, growing strong, a god of the highway on his throne, looking down with benevolence on all the little Fords and Chryslers.
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