When I was sixteen, my father went to the moon. While I grew up, my father used to tell me the story of how the cow jumped over the moon. As I lived on a cow farm, my father always used to jest, even as I got older, that he would, one day, breed a cow that could jump over the moon.

One night, when I was six, after he told me the story, I asked him to give me the moon. The next day I came home from school and found all of the things in my room covered by white sheets. I quickly ran to my father and asked him what was going on. He promptly said that he was giving me the moon.

Two days later the sheets were put away; and while the sun may have been in the sky outside, I always had the moon in my room.

A few years later after this I started to notice strange things in my father's behavior. He would sleep more, and heavier that he used to. Progressively, he would do less, and less of the work he normally did, eventually hiring more farmhands. He was getting sick more often, with an increasing amount of visits to the doctor. Every time I would try to ask him about any of this he would make a joke and change the subject.

Finally, three days before Thanksgiving he collapsed, while we were picking out a turkey together, at our neighbors farm. Our neighbor drove us into town to the nearest hospital. The hospital was too white; there weren't enough shadows, or textures. We checked my father in and they immediately began testing.

When they came to a conclusion of what was ailing him, he wouldn't allow the doctors, or anyone else, to tell me. He told me not to worry, and that everything would be okay.

Seventeen days later my father died. Those last days were the best days I have ever lived. On the 14th day it was my sixteenth birthday. Despite being in the hospital we had a little celebration, ending with the nurses reprimanding us for disturbing the other patients.

On the last day my father spoke his final words. He discussed with our lawyer what was to happen to the ranch and other such arrangements.

Then we had our last conversation. Neither of us said it, but both of us knew. He told me to keep reaching for the sky, and one day I would reach the moon. He said, that one day we would be there together again.

When I was sixteen, my father went to the moon.