The Reminder
I love the moon. That little after thought in space shining with the reflected light of the sun. It comes out when the buzz of the day is done, and Apollo is off being a star on the other side of the world. Most people barely notice. I was outside last night listening to music and my chair was just right to watch the moon start it’s evening journey. Luck. It came up over a house and rose through a space in the trees. It was nearly full, that happens tonight. Hardly anyone else was in a position to see it. And still it came.
Over the years, I’ve seen the moon light the vast empty space of the Mojave desert. Joshua Trees in moonlight are something to see. I’ve watched it rise over the Gulf of Mexico from Galveston’s sandy shores; it’s reflected image cutting a bright line across the rippling water. From my back porch, I’ve seen it bring to life the pasture behind my house, making it easier for grazing deer to find the sparse feed of a dry summer.
The nicest thing about the moon is that it lets you gaze at it as long as you like. Apollo is all fire and forces you to turn your head and look away. The moon is quiet and steady with nothing much to say. It invites you to linger, looking up. To sit with it and think. To find a bit of peace. There’s no pressure. No fire. Its job is simple; bring us a little bit of soft daylight from the other side of the world to remind us tomorrow is coming.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale