Moonlight
There is one weird window in my house. It’s in my bedroom, on the west wall at the south corner of the room. I have no idea why it’s there, because the house was built and laid out to avoid sun exposure. It’s a chink in our armor. I’m writing about it today, however, because I sleep facing that window and last night during my 2 a.m. wakeup, I thought someone was shining a light into my room. But it was only the moon shining through the weird window and the Venetian blind that covers it.
It’s on its way to being full and is nearly there, the moon not the window, so it was really bright. My late wife and I, when we finally reached empty nest status, would go to the beach on nights of the full moon, recline in our lounge chairs, drink wine, and watch the moon rise. We usually saw a satellite pass by and occasionally we’d see a shooting star. But the moon rising over the water of the empty ocean was the show and it was why we’d go. All that came to mind last night, so I tucked myself in with that good memory and fell back asleep.