The other night I had stayed up too late. It was past midnight. A couple hours past midnight. How had it happened? In my sleepiness I scribbled a note to the milk man, instructions for tomorrow’s delivery.
On my way to bed, I went to put the note out on the porch. Opening the front door I wondered why I had turned on the outside lights. The sky was bright.
I looked to see the moon, full and white. Clouds had moved, leaving a border deep blue then lace. As a girl, I’d always wanted a dress the color of midnight sky. The bright white circle set in the blue almost made me forget my sleepiness.
The moon was right before my doorway. As if it was waiting for me. As if it wanted to talk to me. Pouring out persistent patience. It was all I could do to stay on the front porch and not go racing out into its brightness. I longed to follow its beams, run barefoot, across cold pavement, becoming a lunatic.
Moon are you waiting for me? So generous of you. All this light. Such a surprise. Wow. It’s wonderful. Enchanting you are. Truly. Would love to talk. I’d follow you anywhere. I’m fascinated. But not tonight. I’m up past my bedtime.
With apologies to the orbiting body, I shut the door and headed upstairs to bed. My night with moonlight went into the category of Roads Not Taken. I’m coming to accept that there are conversations I can’t have.
