The Moon and Me

The Moon and Me

I went out to follow the final sliver of the moon. It was beckoning me through the window before the sun had finished setting, and it looked like a curved slice of apple discarded by a god. So I found my coat and my invisible net and went after it.

The sky itself remained a light blue and it had two layers of cloud racing across it; one a bruise-like, brooding grey like the heart of Heathcliff, and the other a golden coral. It reminded me that when I was small I was given a coral necklace, almost exactly the same colour, by a boy I had a crush on. He was the sort of handsome that makes your heart race even when you're six. I still have that necklace and I still sometimes wear it, too.

The clouds were determinedly going wherever clouds go to, and my eyes weren't big enough to contain the whole of the sky around me, as no eyes ever are. That thought made me stop, and look, and marvel, and feel as though we do matter very much for reasons I can't even explain, but which gave me peace.

I kept chasing the moon, and it kept staying teasingly out of my reach, but the wind billowed up my clothes and against my skin fiercely, as though it was happy I was there.

Then I met Fantastic Mr. Fox with his black ears and his impressively bushy tail. He passed right by me, in a hurry, and without even saying good evening but I'm sure I saw him wink. He dived expertly into a hedgerow and disappeared. I crossed the road to see where he had gone and stood beneath the towering greenery, peering through the foliage for a sight of my new friend. Growing in the part of the hedge he'd vanished into was a single trumpeting white flower.

I crossed the road again, taking a moment to stand in the middle of the street and look up to the lighted windows of strangers and wonder about them. These people in proximity I do not know with their beautiful and secret lives.

I wanted to be up high suddenly. I wanted to zip wire along the telegraph lines or walk along them like a tightrope walker, arms outstretched and fearless. It felt like if I only took a leap, it would be possible.

Turning for home, I looked between each of the houses and kept seeing the north downs in the distance. They made me feel silent. They invoked a kind of awe. They have so much history and beauty and they wait for me to go and stand on them again to see the whole town unfolding beneath me like a magic map come to life. 

I never caught the moon, but I got to visit again the piece of myself which is always out there waiting. The almost best piece. The piece that makes me feel the most alive. 

I have grown eccentric you know. It occurred to me as I was walking and I looked down and considered my appearance. I was rather glad of how little it matters, and how much I don't care any more for the accepted conventions. Unless they happen to be kind.

Grief

Grief

Bread and Roses

Bread and Roses