The Moon and I


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Evening descends on this almost mid November day and makes me nervous. The end of daylight savings time has had a week to fuse with my bones and because of it, I feel a heavy scuzz has attached itself to my soul, weighing it down so that normally fluid movements are now jerky and awkward. November. That’s the name of this sickness and I will not truly be well again until mid March or so.
I’m reminded of when the boys were babies and, before bedtime, the same sticky, scared feeling would creep up behind me. Will they sleep tonight and if not how will I function in the morning? I beg of you, I only ask for five minutes. Please go to sleep, please go to sleep, please go to sleep before I can’t take it anymore and jump out the open window, running blindly into the darkness of my own insanity. Yes, I still feel that way in the eves of November, only now the boys are grown and it’s myself I chant those words to. Words; the only thing that flows at this time of year. They spew from my fingertips in a wild and uncontrollable frenzy until I have to wonder if they even belong to me at all. Where do they come from? Where are they born and where, for God’s sake, do they go when they die? I read them back to myself without recognition and yet they were born inside me too and, just like my babies, I beg of them to please, let me sleep.
Once the night has really taken hold and I am the last living and breathing creature on the planet, I look for the moon. She and I are sisters and it’s when we’re together that we adorn ourselves in magnificent midnight costumes of sequins and jewels. I shimmer with a beauty that fades with the sunrise, so there’s only the moon to really appreciate it. She and I become mirror images of each other and from the tips of my hair I can feel delightful moon beams filter through. I am entwined in her magic and grace and sometimes I’m sure it’s all that saves me. When I finally feel sleepy she drapes me in her blanket of light and when I awaken all of my dreams and all of my fears have disappeared, and for a moment I am whole. I am normal. I can relate to the rest of human kind. For a moment.
Because for a moment, it was just the moon and I.
The sun will rise again and with it I will be required to perform the greatest role of my life. I will fool everyone with my enhanced acting abilities until they really believe that I’m the same. Strangers would never guess that I’m not one of them at all, and those closest to me will only feel vaguely disconcerted in my presence. I’m good at this game and the moon has taught me well for just as I scorn myself, so too is she scorned. Perhaps this is why the night is mine. With the sunset my protective shroud is ripped away and I can be viewed as I really and truly am. I am dazed by my difference now, for the sun is powerful enough to make even me forget who I really am. It tricks me into becoming the part I strive to play so that even as I fool those around me, I too am fooled. It lights my stage and transforms me, only to leave me at the end of the day, glaringly transparent, ugly and lacking. But just as the sun abandons me and leaves me to lurk in inky darkness, a solitary beam of white light finds me. It picks me up, it plays beautiful music for me, and we dance together until neither of us is solitary anymore. We are the moon. The moon is me. I can wield moon magic as I please and where I wish and as the moon is, so too am I. Tragic, lovely, dramatic and haunting, bright, light and forever changing.
How can I still deny the power of my words or wish to banish them? They have bestowed a gift of joy where once was sadness, a wish to worship the night instead of skip it entirely. But you see, it’s the moon that wrenched these words from my heart, as she so often does. And tonight I am blessed. For tonight, it is only the moon and I.

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