Recently, I’ve been helping the moon learn to speak. She has always been silent, much like I was growing up. Perhaps she was afraid she’d embarrass herself with her words. Or with how she sounded. I told her that most likely, people would be soothed by the sound of her voice. And then yesterday, she surprised me by saying, “I’m full.” “Well, yes you are,” I said, taking in the sound, which was a beautiful tinkling whisper that traveled like a stone skipping on water. “Why are you working so hard to get me to speak? Other moons don’t speak, take Jupiter—none of her eighty-three moons speak. A silent bunch they are.” Then she snickered, “Can you imagine,” she said in that tinkling whisper, “such a cacophony in space.” I said, “Or a chorus, if they have perfect pitch.” She smiled her big moon smile. Then we laughed together.