March 2, 2007

I love moonlight. I can remember a handful of times as a young adult in NE Ohio where the moonlight was strong enough to cast a shadow. Maybe because it was so rare it seemed magical, and if there’s one thing I miss about childhood, it’s magic. You grow up and reality, a relentless bastard, whittles away at magic until there’s little left.

I’ve been told that having kids brings back the magic, and I believe that’s probably true. But it seems such a drastic and irretrievable thing to do. I can see that conversation now, “Mommy, did you want me?” “Well, not as such, but I was really tired of reality.”

So, I’ll stick with the full moon on a clear night. Nature must have seen my magic vacuum and understood that I needed a boost, because in the 25 months I’ve been on Crete, about 20 of them have gifted me with one of my few adult magical joys, a moonshadow. One might think that because they are so common here, these nights would lose their sway over me, but they don’t. Walking alone on a moonlit night is like falling in love for the first time or Christmas morning. It feels like a secret between me and the sky.


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