Forty Years Later

I was fifteen years old when Neil Armstrong took the huge step for mankind. Mom pooh-poohed the event and went to bed. My siblings always went to bed. But I wanted to see the historic step onto the surface of the moon. It was late and the only light in the living room came from the glow of the black and white TV. I was absorbed in a dream and challenge of President Kennedy. The fantasy came true and I took pride in my country's achievement, something so miraculous the milestone would become the measure all frustrating challenges, “If we can go to the moon, you think we could…”

The only person to share this event with me was Dad. When I asked him if he remembered watching the landing he say he didn’t. Oh well.

Forty years later, I’m sitting in the living room with Dad. Maybe neither one of us has budged since.