I remember the first time I truly noticed the moon.
I was in California visiting my grandparents one summer when my dad showed up unannounced. For anyone who knows me, I was deeply attached to my dad — having him appear like that was everything.
One evening we laid out on the lawn to watch for shooting stars, lucky to be somewhere with no light pollution. I asked him whether he would see the same moon back home on the east coast, or whether there was a different one over there. 🤣 I had absolutely no concept of how our solar system worked yet.
What I didn’t know in that moment was that when I headed home, he wouldn’t be coming with me. Before I left he told me that no matter where we were, no matter the distance between us, we would always be looking at the same moon.
And so from that moment on, the moon became my beacon. While the planets and everyone on them revolved around the sun — for me, the moon became my center of gravity.
It would be many years before I understood the power the moon holds over our physical world. And even more years before I discovered her power over the metaphysical world — the one I would find myself increasingly drawn toward. I have always talked to the moon on late night drives, telling her about my day, my worries, my heartbreaks, my hopes. And just to ease any concerns — no, she has never talked back. I am not hearing voices. 🤭 But I have always felt an intense sense of safety and comfort simply by looking up and acknowledging her presence.
The moon has become part of how I sign my name. She lives on the cover of my first published book. She is woven through its pages. I am currently writing an entire collection that follows all thirteen full moon cycles in a year. She has been my constant. My anchor. My echo.
No matter what life throws at me — as long as I can look up and see her, I know I will be alright.
🌙S
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