I am visiting my family.  We are all in the large yard out in front of my parents’ house.  I look up and comment on how unusually big and low the moon is.  Someone points out that there are two moons.  I do a double take, and sure enough there are.  I question my own vision and sanity, but I am not the only one seeing it.  The larger white circle in the sky may be a moon, but it is not our moon.

And it is getting larger, closer, as we watch it.  Soon it fills half the sky.

Convinced that this is how the world ends and that I have precious few moments left to live before impact, I run across the yard to my mother and hug her, crying.

Days later the world has not ended.  The second moon only barely missed the planet and continued on its way through the cosmos.  From where we were standing its passage looked like a sort of sunset, dropping down over the horizon.  We were lucky.  In many places its mere proximal passage left devastation in its wake.