Over The Moon

When I was younger, I wanted to go to the Moon. I could float around with carefree exhilaration, exploring uncharted territory like an eager tourist. Experiencing the wider galaxy - not being bound by Earth's gravity - was a fantasy that piqued my curiosity. This innocuous fascination led to my dark blue bedroom ceiling accessorized with hanging satellites and glow-in-the-dark stars. Being on the Moon was a wonderful dream as a kid. It still is.

There is something captivating about the Moon. Unlike the Sun, I can actually look at it. To get lost in its light without repercussion. The Moon emits peacefulness, the kind that puts you into a trance and lulls you to sleep. While its counterpart radiates and boasts, moonlight is crisp, gentle, and alluring. Its chill ambience invites me to reflect on my day, to kick up my feet and ponder anything and everything.

In the same way the Sun bounces its light off the moon, I can project my musings onto the Moon. When the Moon is on my side, I can rest easy.

I like to walk with the Moon. No reason, no direction. Just a comfortable breeze and a dear friend. When the Sun relentlessly beats down on me, I need to walk out my worries and find solace in the Moon. I know I can trust the Moon. The Moon is clear as day. Some nights, it's confident and fulfilled, dancing with the stars. Other nights, it doesn't bother to show up.

The Moon allows me to voice my grievances, revel in my insights, share my laughter. The Moon echoes my sentiments; the Moon accepts me for who I am. When the Moon dances in my inner circle, my energy stabilizes.

Our orbits have not aligned for about a year. The darkness, once soothing, overwhelmed my senses. Conversations became cyclical. Anxiety seeped into the shadows. The Moon became the beacon when my world grew insecure. I tried to remain tethered to its cool embrace; the Moon would mirror my desires, but couldn't reciprocate them. The flight plans were leaked. My peace had cratered.

Ever since, I've been looking down, not having the energy to check in. How could I? The launch I had perfectly crafted in my head was rejected. My childhood dreams were shot out of the sky, plummeting down to Earth.

The Moon moved on, as it does. Its orbit remained intact; its light is as bright as ever. I try not to think above the Moon, but it follows me everywhere. One glimpse of its endearing face and inescapable brilliance, and its gravitational pull conjures Category 5 Hurricanes in my mind.

As a kid, I was drawn to the light of the Moon. I still am. But, looking up now, I know the Moon is a land of emptiness. The Moon has no passion, no energy, no light of its own. As if its translucence disguises its lack of substance.

Of course the Moon has its own life. Buried under its impenetrable crust is a soul that forgot to dream. A shy spirit trying to outrun a past it would not, no, cannot relive. I wanted to invite the Moon out of its darkness. Shoulder its insecurities. Make one small step for one kind heart.

But the Moon does not light up. Understandable, but frustratingly so.

I need a connection that erupts, that flares, that emits its own shine. I need more than a sunroof. I need more than the Moon reflecting my light back to me.

I am not over the Moon. But at least I know what I want.