The book is Moondust by Andrew Smith.

If you intend to read this book, you may consider what follows a spoiler.  I would say no, not technically, but, if you’re worried, please do go away and read it and come back some other day.

I stopped reading at that point for good reason and not because I wasn’t enamoured with the story telling.  It’s beautifully written and enchanted me the whole way. 

The author had set out to interview all the remaining astronauts that have ever walked on the surface of the moon.  I will let him tell you why when you read the book, as he does a much better job of it.  Far more eloquent than I.

Regardless, I was cheering for him all the way through.  I wanted so much to hear from all of these men.  For as long as I can remember knowing that men once walked on the moon, I have wanted to know more.  Anything about them at all.  I will never understand what is like, but they went there.  It has always made me smile to think about it, just as it does now. 

At the last 20 pages, there was still one to go.  I couldn’t bear to read any more.  I didn’t want to know that he might have failed.  I put the book down for a time when I was more ready to hear the news.

Recently it was the 40th anniversary of the moon landing.  Time to pick it up again, lady.  Deep breath and in you go.

How often books do this to me.  Leave me staggered and permanently altered.  Change my life.  Touch me in an almost or actual physical way.

Here’s to those men that walked on the moon.  The men and women who have been to space, to travel among the stars.  And, this time, to those that take me there with their words, whether for real, for history or for make believe.

Take me away.  Turn the page, and set me free.

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