Tonight's full moon, extra bright, casts a glow over the nearby lake, its light so bright that the faceted crystal sun catchers hanging in my window twinkle and shimmer. I love full moons. Always have. Many delightful memories of mine include this aspect of the lunar phase. I once shared a perfect night with someone. It was perfect for many reasons, but we attributed a good part of the perfection of that night to the fact that the moon was full. A full moon became our metaphor for happiness.
I never want to miss a full moon--now that I am older and can actually contemplate the dwindling number that I may yet see. There is that subliminal question--how many full moons will I be granted, how many more springs? Although we do not know with certainty how much time we have left to live, later in life, one can be certain that, even if luck is with them, there are just not that many springs or full moons left for them. A depressing thought, but also uplifting as it brings to mind that I have experienced a perfect night--and that someone else out there also looks up at the full moon and remembers that perfect night--knowing that we had something that many never get a chance to experience.
The lines of one of Neil Diamond's '70s hits somehow seems especially appropriate tonight.
And each one there
Has one thing shared:
They have sweated beneath the same sun,
Looked up in wonder at the same moon,
And wept when it was all done
For bein' done too soon,
For bein' done too soon.
