My friend, the moon

I wandered the beach on Sunday evening.

The water was like a silver velvet blanket creeping onto the shore. Oddly, it reminded me of Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak, with its thick luxurious waves rolling up onto the sand. And, like the cloak, it hides who-knows-what beneath, and is at times both reflective of mysterious moonlight and transparent to what is hidden below.

Wandering to – I gazed out at the breadth of the horizon, dodged fishing lines, picked up one perfect juvenile conch shell.

Wandering fro – I looked ahead, but down at the water at my feet, as I often do; I kept seeing something out of the corner of my eye, and turning around to try and catch the fleeting object in my sight. I must have look paranoid, as if I thought someone was following me. And then I figured it out – the MOON was following me, perfectly reflecting its silver sliver in the veil of water just behind my right heel. The thought of the moon following me made me laugh a little. I tossed my hair back, breathed in the luxurious air, and peeked one more time to make sure my little lunar friend was still coming with me.

(I don’t have good photo to illustrate the quality of the water that night. But I don’t think any photo ever quite does that kind of night justice. You need the air moving around you, the salt in your nose, the sound of the tide, and the touch of the sand beneath your feet, with the water lapping at your ankles.)