Throughout my life I have taken great comfort in the moon. I love the idea that wherever you are, its shape is the same–thumbnail, crescent, half-moon, full. Across oceans and filtering through woods, covered in clouds or peeking above skyscrapers, that moon will be the orb that everyone sees.
Tonight it’s almost full and I think of Sean. Is he studying its shape from a grassy knoll at the edges of town? Will it fall softly on him as he rests? I wonder if he ever looks at the moon and wonders if I’m looking at it too.
Tomorrow night, I’ll share Sean’s moon. After 15 hours of flights and taxis and rental cars. The depth of uncertainty I face exhausts me before I even embark. I’m not sure of God or helper angels, but I do believe in the lunar qualities of love. And so tonight, from my heart, I ask: Please moon, mover of oceans, bring my son and me together again.