Chapter 4 - Lunatics Don't Know “Smile back at that moon You don’t know Lunatics don’t know, they only sigh” The train pulled into the dark dingy Indianapolis Station.  Her heart sank, then, pounded right out of her chest.  He was there.  She hadn’t seen him since February.  Had it really been that long?  Why was she there?  No effort had been made up to that point to come back to Chicago.  But, as the poem that was found buried in the box stated, he was caught up in a fantasy world filled with Penelope and Odysseus.  She could never be Penelope, she failed that miserably.  Too much wasted time, too much pain.  She might have been though, had he truly been an Odysseus.  Why was she there? Her thoughts went quickly to her hair, her clothes. Would she look too much different to him, would he still feel “it” when he saw her?  She had been through so much.  The strain of the past six months had aged her.  She was not the refreshed, free woman he met a year and a half earlier.  A part of her had hoped that he didn’t show.  But then again, she needed to look into his eyes one more time. He was there, smiling, looking for her.  Was he happy to see her, or had he just learned how to hide the truth like so many men did.  That is truly one of the greatest flaws bestowed upon little boys by their mothers; hide your heart, don’t let your mother know how you really feel.  They learn that from a Very early age as they watch their fathers.  The cycle just continues on.  Often we believe the father solely to blame, but little boys learn that you do not want to upset your mother, so you just don’t you, you learn how to keep it hidden under the radar.  There is a greater value in keeping “mother happy.” He hugged her and kissed her on the lips, just softly.  “Was that real, was there love, or just the way he hugged all of his female friends that he hasn’t seen for a while?”  She realized that she had never really seen him with any female other than his sister or mother.  Time would tell, she just knew that she was shaking both because she was finally before him, and also because she was scared of the rejection that was soon to follow. He took her bags from her and escorted her to his truck parked outside, patiently waiting.  She never thought she would climb into his truck again.  As she climbed up into it and was planning on sitting on the passenger side next to the door, he smiled at her and patted the reserved space right next to him in the middle.  In that moment she slipped from being a tired mid-forty year old to a sweet sixteen, being picked up for a first date.  The long train ride had left her tired and thirsty.  He let her know that they had an hour drive before them.  “My it is good to see you, I have missed you, your hair and the way you smeel.”  A smile crossed her face as she remembered one of the earlier correspondences when he misspelled the word smell. Ever since then it has been a standing joke.  One of nature gifts to men is their keen sense of smell.  She always smelled right to him, and it was one thing she had that no one else could.  It was right.  Looking up at the moon she could sense that an aura of protection was pouring out of the lunar light and embracing her chilled shoulders.  The moon was smiling down upon her, not so much because the moon was pleased with the reunion, but much like an adoring parent smiles at a fumbling child on stage at their first recital, so it is that the moon was smiling down on this troubled moon-maiden, what the moon knew “you don’t know my child, lunatics never do, but as songwriters of old proclaim, “it must have been moon-glow that brought me straight to you.”