“You do not even have to kiss me,” she told him. “Just take the moon from me.”
“Take the moon.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Watch,” said Zorya Polunochnaya. She raised her left hand and held it in front of the moon so that her forefinger and thumb seemed to be grasping it. Then, in one smooth movement, she plucked at it. For a moment, it looked like she had taken the moon from the sky, but then Shadow saw that the moon shone still, and Zorya Poluchnaya opened her hand to display a silver Liberty-head dollar resting between finger and thumb.
~ American Gods, Neil Gaiman
I read that very part from American Gods today. I was caught up in how the moon was treated in romance. I am in awe as I reread and write those words above. And to be honest, I love the moon!
There were times in my past when I was alone with the moon. Me talking and gazing up at that medium-sized sometimes large ball of white in the midnight blue blanket above us. And the moon staring back at me, listening to my never-ending ramblings of the day. Oh, what a day! Oh, what a night! We often have long conversations but of course, it is kind of one-sided as you know it. But other times it feels like it is talking back to me. Am I going insane? Maybe. But that is how I feel.
When the sky is clear and we’re on our way home late at night, I open my window car and breathe the cool air and feel the wind on my skin while closing my eyes, and seeing the moon as I open them to it. I smile at nights like that because the moment cannot be captured by a photograph or any recording devices. I smile because that moment is mine and mine alone to cherish and enjoy.
And then at times, the moon seemed too near and streaks of orange filled the sky above. I stare at it and wonder, how do I change like that? How do I become one amazing white ball like a golf ball to an awesome large orange ball like a painting in the sky?
Don’t you love the moon romantically too?
Fave post: when the moon forgot