text: The moon blew up last night. We couldn't see it. I mean, live. Only the people in Australia were able to watch the whole thing up there, in the sky. And I don't envy them a little bit. Mum, Tiana, and I spent all night in front of the TV. We tried ordering a pizza, but everything was closed, so mum had to microwave some pop tarts. As scientists were uncertain about the exact moment of the crash, everybody tuned in hours before the impact. Every network had the same agenda: journalists, scientists, even astrologists from everywhere in the world had engaged in a debate on the consequences of the cosmic event weeks before, ever since NASA confirmed the date and the overwhelming probability of the crash. And yet, a part of me thought it wouldn't happen. No matter what astrophysics had been saying for the past two months, no matter the mathematical equations newspapers and Internet portals from all over the world kept publishing, it just couldn't be possible. Yet, somehow, by 01:47 AM, it finally did happen. I have thought we would hear a huge crash, a massive explosion. What scared me the most was the whole thing was silent. Like one of those black and white movies a hundred years old, but with better special effects, of course. And boy it was fast! In fact, Tiana was in the toilet when the cameras caught the glimpse of the KV-22 approaching, and seconds later... that was IT. I have never thought of the moon as something so... futile, so volatile, until last night. Suddenly it was there, dark, round, beautiful... and then there was not. It volatilized in millions of fragments as if had been made of dry sand and the huge blast was a gust of wind. After the explosion, the reporters were silent as well. A black emptiness filled our TV, and every screen on Earth I assume. Only after several seconds, they confirmed the obvious. There was no sleep after that, at least at home. We kept watching the news, Tiana, mum, and I. I think they hugged and cried. Maybe I cried too, but I'm not sure. All these thoughts were rolling in the back of my head, and I felt my heart pumping like crazy. We just sat there, and none of us spoke for a while. Then, my mom dried her tears and said "At least now, nobody, not even you girls, will ever listen again to "Fly Me to the moon", or "Bad moon rising", or "Moon River" without feeling old". Tiana smiled. She's too young to understand. I tried, too, but I frowned instead. The world after the moon. This would feature history books, right? "Back then...", we would explain to our kids and grandkids. What about literature? "Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change". I wonder if I want to live in a world where Romeo's love for Juliet is as meaningless and empty as our night sky is now. And then I swept aside those silly thoughts with a flick of the hand as if they were annoying flies. After all, humanity is probably experiencing one of its biggest challenges ever. What's going to happen to the oceans and the tides? What effects can this have on living organisms and our rhythms? Will I still get my period every month? Hey, will we get to live yet another month? As the sun rose, as usual, my mom told us to try and get some sleep. But I keep scrolling the news and looking for some answers. At least, while the Internet is still working: we have been warned that even those small remaining fragments that would burn as they enter our atmosphere could damage satellites and make us lose connection. For how long? It's hard to tell. The moon is -was!- 238,855 miles far from the Earth. Its fragments haven't finished reaching us yet, although there are already reports of wildfires in New South Wales attributed to big, hot moon rocks hitting the trees, and surprisingly, a missing cargo ship. That's weird. I mean, what are the chances of being hit by a rock from space if you are in the middle of the ocean? Prevented lockdowns have been established in my city, as in other parts around the world. Governments fear panic, riots, and deaths. Nobody knows what's going to happen now. In the meantime, all we can do is wait. Scientists scare us with their terrible predictions of the Earth losing its balance, the poles rotating, the axis moving, and all that causing drastic impact on our already altered climate, which could lead to tragedy anywhere, anytime now. I'm scared. I told my mom I wanted to talk to dad. -Well, call him then! -Isn't too late now in New York? -Baby, I think you should call him while phone lines are still working. Luckily, there is a tone. After all this time, dad and I talk for hours. I think I say all I needed to say. When we hung up, it is dark already. If this was a story, I would have to describe the night as the darkest, loneliest I've ever witnessed in my seventeen years. It's not true though. We still have power. Lights are on in every house, in the streets, and before last night, or should I say back then, we barely looked above. But animals can tell something is wrong. Flocks of birds have been wandering around all day, and they still linger around the trees, even now that the sky looks black. Dogs everywhere in the neighborhood are howling. And I feel helpless somehow. It's not just the scientific community and their shocking insight. I miss the moon and its white, changing shape. A lighthouse, a place to send our dreams to, a symbol with infinite meanings, now all lost. Something which was always there, for every living being that ever lived on the face of this planet, and now it's gone for good. And yet, I think about the devastating effect the asteroid would have had if it had impacted directly on our planet. What if all that happened is part of some master plan? Was Moon our shield? She was there for us, she protected us -we're now alone.