“Wake up! The moon landed on the Hilton!” I screamed. Really, at age seven I should have known better. Although we had not yet studied the solar system, I did know something about the moon orbiting Earth. But at (in my memory) three in the morning it seemed completely feasible that the moon could be landing on the Hilton. After all it was Las Vegas.
Somehow I bypassed my parents – perhaps they were out? and ran straight to the neighbors. In their groggy states they pulled on bathrobes and slippers stumbling onto the sidewalk to behold this minor miracle. They shook their heads in agreement. After a few minutes of awe they respectably returned to their houses. Leaving me to gape in wonder at what it meant.
If the moon could land on the Hilton what else could happen? I looked at our family dog, who for once was not running away but staying loyally at my side. Maybe this shift of possibilities made him the dog I always wanted. One that wouldn’t run away when the door opened for a parcel from the postman. One that would curl up on the end of my bed and keep my feet warm. I realized this was impossible, strict house rules forbid him from going up the stairs which meant my bedroom was off limits. Once again my older brother won by default of having the bedroom set apart from everyone else’s. As I pondered why he always seemed to get everything, including status of ‘number one son’ the moon sank beyond the Hilton expanding to the Dunes and other hotels along the strip.
Nearly simultaneously the dog took off after a tumbleweed leaving me to chase him through the new construction banked by desert. My socks covered in brambles and tiny scratches on legs and arms, I finally sank down on a mound of dirt near an ant pile. City noise polluted the moonlight. Tears from no clear origin started streaming down my face. And then our dog came and licked my face. We walked back to our front door which was still open.