walking on the moon

Like the doctor told me this morning, the bad part of this is behind you. And so it was. Now enjoying afternoon alone at the house gathering my wits about me. The flash back hospital scene of nearly 40 years ago, summer of '69, Woodstock, Viet Nam, walking on the moon, and my mother's precipitous decline through those last months. A boy shouldn't have to endure losing his mom when he had just turned 16 years old. The image of the TV in her room the live news report, Neal Armstrong stepping onto terra luna, the camera pans over US soldiers sitting on tanks in the jungle, the voice broadcast through the quiet dusk light. It was eiry I remember it as though it was yesterday. Sitting on my mother's hospital bed, watching this. We heard vague reports of somewhere called Woodstock where something was going to happen. By the time the festival was making head line news, "a whole lot of freaks!" my mother had passed away. I guess this why going to hospitals makes me squirelly. Remembering today will cement my aversion. And now, lunch!