Mary E. Potter

　　Each of my sons made the discovery early. We would be riding in the car at night, and a little voice would call out from the back seat, “Hey, the moon is following us!” I would explain that the moon was not actually gliding along with our car. There would be another period of critical observation and the final verdict, delivered more quietly this time: “But it really is moving. I can see it.”

　　I thought of that one evening as I was driving. The moon, one day short of fullness, rode with me, first gliding smoothly, then bouncing over the bumpy stretches, now on my right, then straight ahead, the silver light washing over dry grasses in open fields, streaking along through black branches, finally disappearing as the road wound its way through the hills.

　　When I crested the hill in the village, there it was again —— grown suddenly immense, ripe, flooding the town with a sprawling light so magical I began to understand why it is said to inspire “looniness.” I could hardly wait to get back home to show the boys.

　　Robert was in the bathtub, so I grabbed John. “ Close your eyes and come see what followed me home,” I said, hoping to increase the dramatic impact. I led him out into the night. “Okay. Open! Isn’t it beautiful?”

　　John blinked a few times and looked at me as if I might, indeed, be loony. “Mom, it’s just the moon. Is this the surprise?” I suppose he was hoping for a puppy.

　　I should have realized that, being only ten, he was probably too young to know how much we sometimes need the magic and romance of moonlight——a light that is nothing like the harsh glare of the sun that it reflects.

　　Often in the soothing, restorative glow we stare transfixed, bouncing our ambitions and hopes and plans off this great reflector. We dream our dreams; we examine the structure of our lives; we make considered decisions.

　　The night after I showed John the moon, he burst breathlessly through the door, calling, “Mom, come out for a minute!” This time, he led me, coatless and shivering.

　　Past the row of pine trees that line the road, the sky opened up with the full moon on it, suspended so precariously close that it might come hurtling toward us—— incandescent, even larger and more breathtaking than the night before, climbing its motionless climb over the molten silver of our pond. Even a ten-year-old could see this wasn’t just the moon. This was The Moon.

　　When I turned around, John was grinning, expectant, studying my face intently to see if he had pleased me. He had. I knew that now the moon was following him too.

　　月随我行

　　玛丽 波特

　　我的每个儿子在很小时候就发现这一现象了。当我们晚上开车的时候，后座总会传来一种稚嫩的声音“嘿，月亮一直跟着我们耶！”我总是要解释，月亮并非真正悄悄地跟在我们车后面。他就会仔细地观察一下，然后得出最后结论，再一次用较冷静的口吻说：“但是它真的在动，我能看到呀。”

　　一天晚上，我在开车的时候想起了这件事。再过一天就要盈满的月亮随我一路同行；它起初平稳滑行，然后就在崎岖的路上跃动；一会儿在我右边，一会儿又跑到我前面；最后，随着路在山间绕了个弯，它也就消失了。

　　当我到达村子里的山顶时，它又出现了——变大了，而且看起来也很饱满，一片银辉把整个村庄都笼罩了；看到这么神奇的景象我才明白月亮为什么能激发“疯狂”之情。我迫不及待地赶回家，想让孩子们看看这一景象。

　　罗伯特正在洗澡，于是我就一把拉上约翰。“闭上你的眼睛，出来看看什么随我回家了。”我这样说着，希望能增强戏剧性的效果。我把他带到外面的夜色中，对他说：“好了，可以睁开眼睛了。看，漂不漂亮啊？”

　　约翰眨了眨眼，盯着我，仿佛我真的发疯了一样。“妈妈，这不就是月亮吗？有什么稀奇的？”我猜他是希望我带只小狗回来。

　　我本应意识到，一个只有十岁的孩子，也许因为太年轻，搞不懂我们有时候是多么需要月光的魅力和浪漫。常常地，在那滋润并另我们出神的月光滤波中，我们的抱负、希望和蓝图就投映在月亮这反射物上。我们怀着梦想，审视着生活并做出深思熟虑的决定。

　　就在我让约翰看月亮的第二个晚上，他突然气喘吁吁地跑进屋里，喊着：“妈妈，出来一下！”这一次他拉着我。当时我没穿外衣，不由得一阵哆嗦。

　　走过路边林立的松树，天空开朗，圆月不稳定地悬在空中，仿佛就要向我们飞撞过来——它发着光，比前天晚上更大更令人心驰神往，在银光融融的池塘上悄悄爬了出来。即使一个十岁的孩子也看得出来，这不仅仅是月亮。这是真正意义上的月亮。

　　当我转过身，约翰露齿而笑，十分期待，并且专注地看着我，想知道他是否把我逗乐了。他确实做到了（把我逗乐了）。我意识到月亮也正随他同行。