Revisiting the Moon

Almost an hour of sponging and rinsing every food crusted fork, glass, bowl, and pan that has been scattered across the table and counter tops. My feet are tired, the White Stripes’ Elephant is ceasing to sustain me. The oily stove top still needs to be wiped. Need to prepare meals for Emerson to eat at daycare, wash and dry his bottles.

After every dish is drip-drying on the rack, I take a pitcher full of plant-safe, recycled water and open the door to the terrace. I step onto the black slates and am stilled and quieted.

The haloed moon shines above the four-storey brick in front of me, brightening Janet’s garden below, her hostas and hydrangea glowing. I peer up for a few breaths until the screen door snaps shut. It is enough time to be revitalized, to reconnect with my senses. I water the wilting tomato plants with extra care, the pour of water reflecting the waxing light.

This is a rare moment, being moonstruck. In the evenings, the tasks of putting the day’s disorder into some order take over the body and mute the senses. I don’t often get a moment alone with the moon.

But here I am. Nourishing the potted plants, being nourished by the pouring light.

My hunger for sleep subsides. My will to stand alone under the moon and write is revitalized.

Months have passed since I have written on this blog. It has been hibernating during the months of teaching full time and parenting. Now that I am on summer vacation, fewer tasks need to get done in a day and there is more internal and external space for writing. Already I have a list of five topics I want to write about:

-Just Kids

-Spanish picture books I just borrowed from the library

-garden of poetry - poems that complement my plants and flowers

-Jazzy's curiosity with death

-getting Emerson to gain despite his allergies