Another Moon

Nana cuts the pear
into small pieces
for us on the stools
in the middle of
the kitchen floor.
The pear is sweet
and he happily lets
the overflowing juice
dribble down his chin
while, out of propriety,
I dab at the excess
with a damp a cloth.

We want more
pear but it is close
to dinnertime and a
suggested walk distracts
us to the mudroom.
We don’t want the new
blue fancy mittens, insisting
instead on the thin white knit
pair with dinosaurs still
damp from the morning’s
adventures. We also don’t
want our new pretty down
jacket, and hold out for
the familiar hand-me-down
brown plaid and hooded one.
Shoes are next. While
he sits on Nana’s lap, I help.
Then he finds my big ones
and helps me too.

(Isn’t this the way it is?
No matter how it appears,
we are all cradled
in the vital web of mutuality.)

Out the door, he immediately
wants to be picked up in
the unfamiliar late afternoon
darkness. Happy to oblige,
I hold him close. Pointing
to the hazy moon above,
I whisper in his ear of
the ancient Zen poets
who sang love songs
to this same hazy moon of
enlightenment. He stays
very still for a moment,
then, instantly heavy, he
wriggles down, eager to stand
on his own two feet and
begin the exploration.

Around the block we
marvel and exclaim at
the wondrous rush
of traffic and the size
and sound of big trucks.
He wants to smell
the chrysanthemums that
used to be in planters
by the restaurant and I
have to explain they have
been ‘nupped’ (cleaned up)
for the winter. He seems
satisfied, but I’m not sure.

Half-way round the block
we stop as I explain the
esoteric meanings of the
traffic light’s green and red.
He listens patiently, then,
happening to glance up,
exclaims excitedly ‘Nother moon!’
And indeed, here at
another corner is another
moon, hanging still in
dark the sky. I abandon
the details concerning
perspectives, distance
and object permanence, and
this time, agree with his vision.
‘Yes – nother moon.’

We jump off the curb
a few times, see a
wondrous tree with
lights of all colors
shining, then get excited
about the possibility
of seeing Nana again
running together up
the driveway to the warmth
and safety the blue house
where he lives.