Bernardo Caspe has not received any gifts yet
I remember being 8 years old, sitting in the back of my parents car with my face pressed against the window. I stared in astonishment at the full moon as it chased us. I strained to keep it in sight, catching glimpses of it between the buildings as we whizzed past. Enthralled, I started thinking about the Moon, about what it was and how it got there.
“What?” my mom said, apparently hearing me mumble.