I see the moon’s reflection from 30,000 feet – a flicker off the lead edge of the starboard wing – a shimmer of silver on the surface of freshwater, here one second and gone the next. In this moment I think about how many millennia maybe that lake sat where it was and the moon sat where it was while they both whirled and danced through space. And man trod earth with clubs in hand and built pyramids and mapped the stars and circled the globe but no one knew what the moonlight looked like on the water of some nowhere lake from 30,000 feet. I shift in my seat and glance sidelong at my sleeping wife and ponder how I’d recently learned she likes pottery and ceramics, and about how I’d never known that despite our years together. I consider that in some ways we’re all mysteries, and that this is awesome for no particular reason at all. My gaze returns to the window as the lights of Syracuse begin to rise below me and the captain comes over the intercom about it being such and such temp on the ground and welcome to Upstate and “thank you for flying Delta” but I’m already walking to my car and “honey where are the keys” and her standing patiently shivering while I reconnect the battery terminals 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 and “honey where did I put the parking stub” and the heater kicking in about halfway home and Sunnie asleep in the passenger seat and my music quiet and set to “Shuffle: All” and the moon still there, silent and dim on the hood of my 4runner.

I wonder what to wonder, and I wonder everything, before I wonder not very much at all. And the car is quiet and the stars bright and everything just a little like church when we pull into the driveway after midnight with Europe in our rear view and Africa in mine and “6 months apart in our first year of marriage”. And I breath in deep and off goes the Toyota and the headlights while she yawns and smiles and stretches and “the bags can wait until tomorrow” and a nod of agreement from me.

After this, I will walk inside and get in bed and kiss her and close my eyes.
After this I will go to sleep. Tomorrow is Sunday, and right now doesn’t have a name.

After I check the house for squatters, she goes in and I linger outside… just for a moment… to breathe in the chill and look up, because sometimes you just have to, don’t you?

And I watch my breath against the stars.

*𝐼𝑛*

“𝑇𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑙𝑒, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒…”

*𝑂𝑢𝑡*

The house is dark, but the bedroom light is on.

I walk inside.

Somewhere over the midwest, the moon kisses the water goodnight.