Upstairs beneath the peaked roof of my grandmother’s old farmhouse, I gaze out at the harvest moon. My dreams soar beyond the corn to the twinkling stars. What magic does Mr. Moon have in store for me when I grow up?

Younger cousins, tired after a full day, share my bed. Even the family dog is exhausted. Tomorrow the rocking horse, wooden alphabet blocks, pull toys and dolls will capture our attention. Tomorrow I will explore the attic, climb the apple tree and play hide and seek. But tonight the moon dazzles me, as it often does over our saltmarsh at home in Duxbury.