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Full Moon

When I was a little girl, maybe 3 or 4, my parents took me to see the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Let me make this clear, I do not remember this event, but it has been retold to me many, many times over the course of my life. And I love it, so retelling it here brings me joy. Smiling at this story is not only permitted, but strongly encouraged.

I imagine my father spreading a blanket out on a field in a suburban town at a school or park. I assume it was still light when we sat down and we probably had to wait a little while. I am not sure of these details, but the following is verbatim:

When the fireworks began, my mother pointed to them and said “Amy, look!”.

I looked in the sky, pointed, and said, “Moon, Mommy, Moon”.