This is going to be short, because my son and I didn’t get home all that long ago and we’re midway through a Scrabble game.
Charlie was out playing volleyball as he does Monday and Thursday nights when he’s home from college. I was at dinner with my sisters — Susan and Jeanne — and our mom. Susan’s birthday is tomorrow, and (in continuing out tradition started a couple of years ago) we celebrated by being together, just us girls.
We try to go out on a regular basis, but sometimes our plans get waylaid. The birthday dinners, though, have become a constant.
We had a delightful time tonight, talking about all kinds of stuff and laughing about things I can’t even remember (which is probably for the best because — well, have you ever tried to explain or comprehend shared senses of humor among sisters, and the ensuing giggle fits?)
When we opened the door of the restaurant and walked into the night, the moon was so glorious we gasped a little. “It’s glimmering!” Jeanne said.
Step outside; it’s probably still out. How can you miss it? So full, so white, so pure. A few blocks from home, I noticed the clouds surrounding it and was mesmerized, wishing I had two extra eyes to keep on the road while the other pair ogled the sky.
Before I came in, I lingered a moment or two and then took this picture. I look at it now and am reminded of what in this crazy beautiful world we can count on: A moon that in a few days will wane, and, in a month, whose full-to-bursting purity will again take my breath away.
And, especially, my sisters — glimmering, giggling, gratifying.
So tonight, for being able to count on what we maybe can’t quite comprehend, The Grateful Runner says thank you.