To be strictly accurate, the moon rose over a conifer plantation on the far side of the field – and I suppose I should have been sitting on a Greyhound with a girlfriend asleep in the next seat – but it was still rather beautiful and near enough to satisfy the aspiration.
* * *
I, too, had a girlfriend called Cathy once. She was sixteen and had a job, while I was a thirteen-year-old schoolboy. I wonder what she saw in me. The fact that I was a bit precocious, I suppose.
A lot of moons have risen over a lot of fields since then, and I’ve finally seen my first. And it’s comforting to think that my Cathy still isn’t as old as Paul Simon…