I stood outside the other night and watched most of the lunar eclipse. It doesn't happen that often, and to spend an evening in the relatively warm night gazing at the stars and the shadow of the earth as it crosses the moon, seemed a luxury I definitely wanted to afford. I had my kids out there for awhile, and we told stories to each other as we sat under a wool blanket amidst the stones of the yard. How often to we sit and tell stories in the dark any longer? And yet the act of it feels familiar, like the taste of blood in my mouth. Later it was me, and at some point the coyotes were howling close to the yard. As the moon came out from her dazed reverie, I felt this hope stirring within me. The darkness has passed, it seemed to say.

And so I wonder why my thoughts run through familiar tracks lately, tracing out the wrinkles of my past. The lines etched all over me, and I cannot help but to run my mind over them, searching for the knots and grooves. I am a person who trusts, it is perhaps my greatest strength and my greatest flaw. I wonder, does everyone feel so deeply? And if so, why do we hurt each other so? It is a question with no answer.

Spring is on the way. Not quite yet, but I wonder what fertile ground awaits me this year.



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