I just heard the news.
Neil Armstrong has died. A good 82 years strong, he’s now passed on.
Neil Armstrong walked on the moon on a July evening, back in 1969.
He was my hero, that moon-dust walker, because he plodded in moon-boots, the very first human to walk on the moon, and said, “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
It was my 12th birthday.
In less than a month puberty would strike full-fledged for this soon-to-be-teenager in Kayenta, Arizona, but in the meantime I was still an innocent little girl sleeping out under the lower Michigan stars with my best friend, Carol.
We stared at the moon and the moon stared at us.
“Men are walking on the moon,” Carol and I told one another, daring ourselves to believe this.
“We’ll remember this night forever,” we said, daring ourselves to remember.
The Eagle had landed.
We, too, could land in unknown ports, unknown places, unknown possibilities.
Every birthday I remember Neil Armstrong and his crew…I remember when earthlings first landed on that cratered moon…when suddenly the impossible seemed Infinitely Possible.
If Neil could walk on the moon on my birthday, I could do anything.
If man could walk on the moon, all of us could do anything.
Tonight Neil Armstrong walks on the moon again, I am sure.
Without his space suit, he’s pure spirit, exploring every moon-lake, exploring every moon-crater, dancing in his new-found weightless freedom.
Thank you, Neil, for dreaming the Moon Dream and sharing it with all of us.