The moon has always had a pull. When I taught, I could always tell when the full moon was in evidence. I didn’t really understand the moon, or think about it too much until I began to teach children about its phases. I love the names waxing, waning, gibbous or pregnant moon. I love watching the light grow and shrink.
I am out in the dark a lot these days. If I am not walking to morning Mass, I am pottying my pup. When I looked at the sky the last few darkness moments, I reveled in the joy of seeing the waxing crescent moon. She is like a slightly tipped bowl, ready to spill out something delicious.
I have seen some beautiful moons all over our earth. I marveled that the Australian phases are opposite of those in my Northern Hemisphere. Our waxing is their waning. I stood and watched the largest most magnificently golden moon grow right up out of Lake Michigan one summer evening.
These moon experiences were with my former spouse. I am grateful for each one of those memories. It’s a gift to be noticing the moon once again.