The Moon Looks Brighter Towards Night
The moon seemed to be shining brightly in the early evening, as I saw it firsthand today. I lifted my head as I was about to enter the house. The sky was already dark, but there was a half moon overhead, clear, completely unobscured by clouds. Its light wasn't glaring. Instead, it was soft, like a kerosene lamp placed high above, just enough to illuminate the neighbor's roof tiles and the path in front of the house.
It had been a long day. It was hot under the mango tree, the coffee shop closed, waiting on the stairs while scrolling through my phone. It felt like many small pauses had gathered into one.
And this moon felt like the end. Quiet, patient, doesn't demand attention, but still shows up on time.
I remember when I was little, my mother told me to look at the moon before going to sleep so I'd have sweet dreams.
I don't know if that was true or not. But tonight I understand what she meant. Looking at the moon is the easiest way to slow down my heart. Everything that's buzzing in my head—work, plans, disappointment over not having coffee—feels smaller.
She doesn't ask what I've been up to today. She doesn't judge me for just sitting on the steps of the food stall. She just shines, faithfully, like she's done it thousands of nights before.*:"!!
Maybe life is like that too.
Not every day has to be bright. Just one small, consistent light is enough,
so we know the way home, so we know there's still tomorrow. Tonight I'm going home with two things: the calm from the food stall steps, and the moonlight that's been lingering in my eyes.
Greetings always compact.
By @midiagam