Last night I went out with Charlie about 9:30 and the first thing I noticed was the full moon. Various layers of grayish-beige clouds moved quickly across it. At times the clouds completely covered the moon.
I would wait and within a few seconds the clouds moved on and I was able to see the moon again.
I was transfixed. I have never seen clouds moving so quickly in the sky.
I don’t know anything about astronomy, but it was quite a sight to behold. I almost didn’t want to go back in. I wanted to sit down in the chair and watch this happen over and over again.
When I was younger I used to wonder if my mother might be looking up at the moon and wondering about me.
My mother was not what I’d call a normal acting person. Of course, only having met her a couple of times, it would probably behoove me not to characterize her due to the brevity of our relationship.
There was something wrong with her. That much was clear to me immediately. She was not like other mothers. She was not like other adults. There was a clear and defining deficit that was readily apparent upon being in her presence more than a couple of minutes.
I’ve wondered if she had a more debilitating form of autism. Her mother was just like her if not worse. Maybe it dilutes down in the gene pool as it flows through the bloodline.
They weren’t capable of caring about their children anymore than they cared about a stranger walking down the street. It just wasn’t there. Something got crossed in the wiring and couldn’t be connected.
When I was young and stared at the moon, I allowed myself to see a romanticized version of my mother. Or rather, the woman who just happened to give birth to me.
I know now that she never stood in the darkness staring up at the sky wondering about any of her six (that I know of) children.
She was akin to birds or rabbits or squirrels. They bring their young into the world and then scatter across the earth. There is no real relationship beyond that.
I look at the moon now and just see a wondrous sight. One that plays out across the sky every night whether I’m out there to witness it or not.
There are no longer romanticized versions of people dancing through my head. They have all faded away with time.
Now this is what I think as I stare up at the dark sky:
“I see the moon and the moon sees me.“
And that is enough.