Chasing Moonlight

Chasing Moonlight

On the drive home from practice tonight,

the heavy, yellow moon floats,

low and full,

inviting.
 

Caught, we pull over,

stop in the parking lot of our condo complex;

stumbling over rocks and dips in the green grass,

we walk to the lake and search for the moon

past the water fountain,

over the trees,

around the buildings,

through Laina’s tired grumblings.

No moon.

 

Hide and seek.

Catch me if you can.

Go straight, I command,

walking through the field,

the moon…

My foot slides on a slippery, dark object.

I scream.

The girls run so fast to the safety of the parking lot

and artificial lights—

Laina on the concrete, laughing and moaning;

Lexi doubled over with laughter;

I stagger in between laughs and squeals,

hunting always for danger,

until I, too, reach safety.

Drawing deep breaths in between lingering giggles,

we race to the car and pile in.

What did I step on?

“Mom, it’s a snake,” Laina declares. Lexi agrees.

It was flat. Slippery and flat. And it moved.

We ponder the dark possibilities.

I want to see…

“I wanna go home,” Laina wails. “I’m exhausted and sore.”

“I’m game if we stop for shakes,” Lexi adds.

The image of the moon beckons

like a journey too long denied.

Determined to capture a photo of the beauty,

we embark on our own adventure:

chasing moonlight.

 

Down roads,

around houses,

through neighborhoods,

we drive,

capturing glimpses of the round moon.

 

Who else do you know who chases the moon?

“Just you."

My mom would.

I roll down the window;

at another peep of the moon,

I let loose a long howl.

The moon peeks,

creamy and cold;

the moon winks;

brilliant and bright.

We park at a friend’s place near a golf course,

snap photographs

over the alligator infested river

through the light fog, and

the moon sparkles

luminous and low,

so low we reach out and grab hold

of moonlight,

of promise and hope and

of all things lovely and new and good.