One day before it went fully full, the moon hung low in the sky as we wrapped up our first Christmas Day without Dad. He died on the first full moon of August, so when it goes full now it feels like a hello from him, even as it mucks things up in the way it always has. Or maybe it’s just another reminder of his goodbye. Whatever the case, it reminds me of him, keeping his memory alive.
After years of fearing the moon, and the effect it seems to often have on things, I’ve been coming around to appreciating it. One of the celestial constants in our lives, it informs more than we realize. Or maybe it doesn’t, and it’s all in our heads. If that’s how we assemble our lives, and make sense of the confusing and frightening and hurtful, then let us have our fanciful astrological constructions.
