After Dark

There were times, after we moved to the country south of Houston, when we’d find ourselves on deserted back roads after dark as we returned home. On nights of the full moon, it was possible to turn off the car’s lights and see clearly the road ahead. It was the beauty of the Gulf Coast and flat land. Last night I found myself driving after dark on another empty country road with a nearly full moon. It was still big, and it lit the road ahead. But there were hills and speeds unsafe for dark driving. So, I was left with only my memories of moonlight on asphalt.

But it was nice to think back to other nights of full moons and clear skies, nighttime vistas of roads and beaches and rice fields and forests. And times of my youth when I moved freely in the dark without benefit of man-made light because the light of the moon was more than enough to see the road ahead, the trail, the water on the shore. Even to this day, it makes me feel connected to the earth where I walk and drive and connected even to the sun who can see the moon, too, from the other side of earth and uses the moon to shine it’s light down on me.

And when I woke this morning, the moon was still there, shining in through my window, giving me one last glance before the day broke, and I had more than enough light to see my way around. And I think perhaps the beauty of walking by moonlight, living by moonlight, is that it shows a willingness to get along with what you have, no matter how meager. To be willing to move slowly. To be patient. To wait. To find beauty in the night, in the small things, in the things right before you, in the things the moon wants you to see.