The moon and me

Scrolling through Facebook one morning, I read that that night’s moon was going to be the biggest and brightest of the year! No one really knew, and somehow, as the day went on, I forgot too. After dinner, I pondered what I should do. Then, I saw it — the bright, big, present moon.

I stared. The light, the clouds, the blending colors, the distinctions. The light. I stared some more.

“Look at the moon!” I shouted to people sitting inside the lobby. My heart was racing now. How could I get a better view? Wow, it was moving – climbing higher and higher.

I went to the rooftop and took a picture. The moon, the mountains — we spent a moment together. Awesome. I took another picture. Which was better? It doesn’t matter. I walked downstairs only to see them, a handful of the 30 classmates with whom I share a dormitory in Ioannina, Greece, talking through screens. Don’t they know the moon is out!?

I shouldn’t be angry. But I am. I need to send them a message: Heyyyy life is awesome! I texted group-chats with the picture, “Go outside and look at the moon!!”

As I walked outside again, energy awakened in me. “Ah the moon!” I scream to no one in particular. “Gahhh! Everyone look at the moooon!” Screaming was not my intent, but: “Look at it!”

Someone from the lobby suddenly shouted, “Christina has happiness and positivity again. It’s highly contagious. Don’t leave your rooms! If you starting jumping for no reason, it’s a symptom you caught the virus. Careful!”

A moment later, someone else opened their window and said in a friendly voice, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, look! The moon! It’s beautiful!”

Peering through the branches outside his window, he said, “Oh yeah, I saw it a bit earlier, it was really nice.”

“Come outside!” I exclaimed. You have legs, I want to add. You can just walk outside! It’s so easy! Come see!

“No, I’m okay here,” he said. “You know, your preference is not the same as everyone else’s?”

“Okay, okay, well anyway, bye!”

Walking away from the building, I set my gaze on the moon. A cloud comes near. Maybe other people see it better now, but even if they don’t still it exerts its invisible force. I’m neither on the giving nor the receiving end. I failed, I think to myself. I should have gotten myself together and organized things. A party, a gathering, a viewing, a something! They are all inside and here I am alone again, in the presence of awe.

I heard a ring and saw that two friends texted me they enjoyed seeing the moon. A smile came to my face as I texted back the smiley and praying emoji. Should I not include that? It’s not a religion. It’s not to a God. But I am thankful. I am so thankful. And this is awe. This is It. I put the praying hands and am happy I do. Maybe that will send them a message. This is God.

I wandered. Where should I go? I plopped myself in a meadow and lay there. Wow, the smell of dandelions, the smooth fingers of grass. I looked up at the sky, so broad, wide, all-encompassing. The dark, dark blue. Really, look. Two amazing things happen every day: the sun rises and the moon comes out.

I should do this more often. Every night the sky is out. Every night this grass is here. Why haven’t I? Too many things. We should all sleep outside. Live outside!

I rested for a while, taking it all in. Then, realizing the moon wouldn’t appear from behind the clouds for a while, I left, vowing to bring them here another night, whoever would come.

As I took the steep way down, I saw a white, spherical thing on the ground. What is that? Coming closer, I saw it was the head of a lamppost. I picked it up. Approaching the artificially lit lobby, I thought of something that made me grin. No one could see my smile in the dark, but up from my hands rose the giddy hope: this might make them laugh.

I held the plastic orb, opened the door and entered. “I caught the moon!”