A moment in the moon

October 24th, 2018. A year and a day since the last time I saw my mother, talked to her, hugged her.

My sister reminded me to look at the moon tonight. As I spread apart the shades, my mouth fell and I sank to my knees to pick it up. Relief danced across the surface of my skin. I cried for all the beauty and love I had ever experienced in my life. So much of it stemming from the woman I was raised by. It was the first time in a year that I recall feeling only joy and gratitude. The ever present dagger wounds, for once, weren’t tugging at the empty holes where blades had entered. The pressure around my throat, the constant feeling of someone slightly choking me, was absent. I basked in the glow of the moon and the immense sense of lightness and peace within my body. For however brief a moment, the weight I carry upon my shoulders was lifted. For the first time in a year I could remember all the incredible gifts my mother shared with me without drowning in the notion that she would never share more. It was enough. It was more than enough. Thank you harvest moon for digging up and bringing to the surface a feeling I was sure had died with my mom.