Still Moon and Stars e-bog

In early March, Michael, my nine-year-old, called me to come outside. From my easy chairin front of the television, I hesitated. It was late evening and it was chilly out there. My soncame in, took my hand, led me into the backyard and up the steps to our deck. It was verydark. I could barely make out Sandi, my wife, bundled in a blanket on a wicker chair. A littlefurther away, equally enwrapped, sat Jenny. Michael, whom I lost momentarily, had by nowclimbed onto a pallet bed covered with blankets and a pillow on the deck floor.A comforter draped chair awaited me. For a few minutes we spoke about events of the day. We then moved on to concerns, at the time, pressing. Eventually, we seemed to settle on oldmilestones: vacations, reunions, the like. The space between our whispering grew. Soon wewere silent.I became aware of how the pine trees formed a colonnade around the edge of our backyard;shadow sentries between us and the canyon below. Above the pines were the stars and acrescent moon over the Seven Sisters to the east. There were so many stars, so many; andplanets, too, coursing overhead like an hour hand across the Zodiac. We were all still as alake, and welcomed the galaxies in.The universe is an unconquerable mystery, and so are we; both can be so beautiful, soachingly beautiful: ourselves, the still moon and stars. We try to decipher what few answerswe can about the questions they pose. Not from some noble quest, but simply to know.Over the past sixteen years, at my best, Ive tried to chronicle the beauty and the questions astheyve come to me. Mostly, Ive had to be satisfied with the mysteries big and small. Andthat is what I write about.