One night, about two years ago, I was sitting on the roof of a decaying house watching the lunar eclipse with my best friend of many years.

As we watched the darkness devour the face of the Moon; he slowly turned to me and asked: “Why is it that we so rarely hear about eclipses where the Sun passes in front of the Moon?”

I stared at him, mouth agape, and asked him to please repeat the brilliant query that had just passed from his lips and into my ears.

“I just think it would be more of a regular occurrence, don’t you?” he said, as though it was the most sensible idea he had come across in recent memory.

“So let me see if I understand you correctly.” I asked, as calmly as possible, and trying not to sound that condescending. “You are literally wondering why the Sun does not get between the Earth and the Moon more often?”

This back and forth of “How come?” and “Are you serious?” probably went on for a good five minutes before he realized just what he was asking.

“Why don’t we just pretend I never said anything” he said, as though I could ever forget about it. “Let’s just go back to watching the moon disappear.”