Moonlight

Last night as I drove down Rt. 2 towards Porter Square to have dinner with friends, I looked up at the sky and marveled at the moon. It never fails to take my breath away; whether it's a sliver of a crescent, or full and bright, there's something breathtakingly captivating about this jewel in the sky. It shines its beauty upon us all, but the night makes it lonely. It's as if it knows that its light is not its own and somehow that diminishes its brilliance, its ability to illuminate the darkest corner of the sky. But that's not true, we all know that. Silly moon.

Last night, I saw an almost full moon, surrounded by clusters of stars. I suddenly felt the urge to grab some sleeping bags, go to a deserted field in the middle of nowhere, and lie there all night, just looking up at the moon. I can't explain why but that's just what I wanted to do. Be bathed in moonlight and watch the clouds drift over us, with millions of stars smiling brightly.

One of my favorite lines from a movie (I don't remember which) comes during a scene where two lovers have to separate for some reason. When the girl expresses how much she will miss him, her lover says, "Whenever you feel lonely, look up at the moon. Because I'll be looking up at the same moon too, and you'll know I'm with you."

I love that thought. It's the same moon no matter where you go, so that's one thing we can share despite the distance and silence between us. Isn't that amazing?

I will end this post by saying that the moon has, on many occasions, inspired me to write as well. Below is one such piece that expresses some of my reflections on the moon... enjoy.

As I lie alone in the sheltering darkness of the night, a wisp of moonlight makes its way through the curtains. The branch outside my window sways, and upon my blank wall, light dances to the tune of the night wind. I stare at the shapes but they fail to hold my attention. My sleepless nights continue to search for what lies asleep in my dreams.

I toss and turn.

The clock at my bedside glows an ominous green, the digital numbers staring at me silently like the piercing eyes of a monster waiting to strike. Not a tick, not a beep comes from it, as it steadily deletes minutes from my life. Outside, a car drives by with a low rumble, streaking a flash of yellow light against my wall.

I toss and turn.

I hear a soft pattering, as the first drops of a summer shower begin to fall upon the leaves. An owl hoots, and the creatures of the night rustle in their sleep. The pouring becomes faster and steadier. The sound of the rain washes through my mind, leaving my eyes damp with tears.

I toss and turn.

And then I see him, swathed under the covers, next to me. He is asleep, his face upon the pillow turned towards me, the blanket resting softly on his body. He is a mild silhouette in the dimness, but I see him.

His eyes are shut, his long lashes making shadows on his cheek. His face is now worn with worry; there are lines where there were once dimples. His lips tremble as he dreams, and mine ache to touch them. I feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. He swallows drowsily, and I watch his Adam's apple travel in its orbit down his throat.

I reach out to touch him.

Just then, a mass of cloud slides over the moon, and the shadows on my wall vanish. A deafening clap of thunder and a blinding streak of lightning crack their whip against my window, and I shut my eyes tight in fear.

When I open them, he is gone.

I stare at the space that was him, desperately willing for him to return, but I only see the dents his body left behind. Flooded by helplessness, I gather the sheets that carry his scent and bury myself within them.

And through the stormy night, I toss and turn.