Nope. My sense of humor isn’t here, but the moon will always remind me of lying on lawn chairs in the back yard, looking at the moon with my dad. He would point out the stars and try to teach me the names of the constellations. I only remember the big and little dipper. Not for his lack of trying, more of my lack of attention.
But the moon was a wonder to him. He kept many of the Seattle newspapers of front page events happening in our world. The moon landing was one of them—I have the paper—hopefully stashed along with the others he kept, in an acid free box.
I’m learning to cope with change to keep above the stability line. (by the way, that is my description of it–the line which I dip below isn’t really how the professionals refer to sliding down the fragile slope of depression)
The one thing which doesn’t change–the moon. It may change shapes, but it’s always there.
I spent the better part of yesterday in my bed, reading blogs.
I know this is a Super Moon, and thanks for the lack of pesky cloud cover, I was able to take a photo of it. We stepped into the middle of the street—me, barefoot and in my jammies, my husband playing the part of gear caddie—we had to wait for the camera to adjust to the humidity, and for me to remember which settings were required to shoot the moon—but it was worth getting out of bed for.
Thanks Dad, for reminding me what is truly important.