Mister Moon

by Grace Andreacchi

Have you ever tried to read the face of the moon? It shifts and changes, you cannot make it out. After a while you're not even sure there's a face in it at all. Riding up the FDR Drive on winter nights with my grandfather in his car, I was amazed how the moon always followed us all the way home. Floating over the quiet landscape of glittering skyscrapers, gliding along the black ribbon of the river. "Hello, Mister Moon!" said my grandfather; "Hello, Mister Moon!" I cried, and waved at the bright face, watching me from the middle of the sky, watching from the other side of the cold glass, following me all the way home.


Grace Andreacchi was born in New York in 1954, but has lived on the far side of the great ocean for many years - sometimes in Paris, sometimes Berlin, and nowadays in London. Works include the novels Give My Heart Ease (Permanent Press 1989), which received the New American Writing Award, and Music for Glass Orchestra (Serpent’s Tail 1993), the play Vegetable Medley (Soho Repertory Theater, New York and Boston Center for the Arts, Boston, Massachusetts), as well as numerous short stories and collections of poetry. Additional work can be viewed on her website.


Leatherdykeuk said...

Delightful. It made me reminisce about my own childhood too.

E.K. Hornbeck said...

Oh, the benevolent white moon; so much a part of our lives, but so rarely noticed by so many. She is surely taken for granted.

Once, on a cold November night with black clouds in the sky, I saw the face of a dear, sweet girl in the moon. I wrote to her and said, "I saw your face in the moon." And she replied, "I know now that you love me."

Thank you for reminding me of these wonderful things.

Quin Browne said...

cold, clean, crisp.