Footsteps on the Moon

The soft white snow made crunching noises as Clarence walked across its pristine surface.  Looking back at his own tracks, he wondered if Neil Armstrong’s footprints were still on the moon.  What would it mean to leave such a mark on another planet and human history?  Clarence looked up at the full moon, trying with all his might to see if they were still there, but he knew the gesture was futile.  Still, for a moment, he thought he could glimpse that history.

A sudden wind gust swept across the landscape, snow leaping into the air and dancing to a mad tune that could only be heard in the whipping air.  Clarence shuddered at the chill north wind and closed his eyes to its frolicking snowflake dance partner.  Just as suddenly, the wind lost its melody and the snow sat back down waiting for the next number.  Clarence looked around him, the landscape had changed in that simple moment, erasing its memory of his passing.

Clarence looked back at the moon.  Those footprints might still be there, but that was a dead tidal locked rock island in a large space ocean.  Even though it chilled him to the bone to think about his own mortality, he was much happier to be here where he could watch the dance around himself, even if it meant his mark on this place would eventually be blown away in the symphony of change.

Clarence continued his walk, not worried about the footsteps he was leaving behind, but about the warm glass of mulled apple cider that was yet to come.

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