Member-only story
Harvest Moon
A sappy, romantic blabbering
I was wearing long pants for the first time in about six months. Somehow, that changed all the thinking going on in my noggin. I felt the chill through my clothes and it felt good. I looked up at the full harvest moon and I was suddenly connected to every moment of joy I had ever felt.
I felt that warmth that leaves me impervious to temperature. I saw the moon’s reflection in her eyes. It was as clear as it was thirty years ago. I saw the moon reflected in her hair. And on her teeth when she smiled. That smile that melted my heart and opened it to the whole world. How could I not love her and not love everything? How could I not be changed by that smile?
How could I not be swept into a torrent of feeling?
And now on a cold autumn evening I can look up at the moon and be sucked right back into it. I can still feel our bodies slowly swaying to a distant song, moving to a primal rhythm we had known so many times before.
The music still plays. The moon still bathes me in love. I can still feel the rhythm even though I don’t move. The movement is all inside. Outside I stand still as granite and let it all flow through me without resistance.
Under the ever-forgiving moon there is no sadness, no regrets, no guilt, no shame, no sorrow. Standing alone, I smile. Love is still there.
Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved.
