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Last night I was freaking out about pretty much everything. Packing. Exams. The flight home tomorrow. Where I'm going to work this summer. Where I'm going to live next year. It was all swirling around in my head, and it made me dizzy.
I went for a walk. What the hell, it was a clear night, and I had headphones, and I needed to buy some packing tape anyway. Walking calmed me down a little, but not enough. Not nearly enough.
On the way back up the hill I saw the Man in the Moon. I never could when I was a kid- the splotches just looked like splotches. But the older I got the clearer he became, eyes and mouth and nose all coming into focus. He looked more like a woman then, Lady Luna, with her scarf pulled up to her face.
There was a tree jutting out of a snowbank, thick wide hospitable branches low enough for me to swing into- just so- settle onto- just so. I let my feet dangle over the sides and rested my forehead on its trunk, got caught in passing headlights for a second. The branches above me waved and tangled like fine old hands, the moon cradled gently between them. "Cradled," I thought, was a good word, because it was how I felt- carefully rocked, lulled by the world hushing itself. I don't know how long I stayed there. Long enough for the music and the wind and the snow and the road to blend together at the edges like paint. Long enough for it to matter.
I hopped out of the tree and stood beneath it for a second, and walked home, and was calm.
I went for a walk. What the hell, it was a clear night, and I had headphones, and I needed to buy some packing tape anyway. Walking calmed me down a little, but not enough. Not nearly enough.
On the way back up the hill I saw the Man in the Moon. I never could when I was a kid- the splotches just looked like splotches. But the older I got the clearer he became, eyes and mouth and nose all coming into focus. He looked more like a woman then, Lady Luna, with her scarf pulled up to her face.
There was a tree jutting out of a snowbank, thick wide hospitable branches low enough for me to swing into- just so- settle onto- just so. I let my feet dangle over the sides and rested my forehead on its trunk, got caught in passing headlights for a second. The branches above me waved and tangled like fine old hands, the moon cradled gently between them. "Cradled," I thought, was a good word, because it was how I felt- carefully rocked, lulled by the world hushing itself. I don't know how long I stayed there. Long enough for the music and the wind and the snow and the road to blend together at the edges like paint. Long enough for it to matter.
I hopped out of the tree and stood beneath it for a second, and walked home, and was calm.