I was particularly happy when Mr. Moon parked outside my garden window on the first evening that daylight saving time ended. A cold drizzle dropped into the dark as I took the trash down the wet steps of my kitchen porch that had been light at the same time the day prior.
There’s something about darkness replacing lingering light that disrupts my sense of evenness. It’s like riding high on a seesaw knowing the downside will leave you wanting, but being unable to avoid it.
“Why do you think, since I’m a night person in so many ways, that I eschew daylight saving, which adds more darkness to the day?” I asked Mr. Moon as he lit the way down the porch steps for me. “I know you are going to say it adds more light to the morning, right?” My friend smiled thoughtfully.
The early losing of the light seems to bother me this year more than most. Perhaps it’s the uneasy state of the world, or, just a childish yearning to once again catch fireflies in the warmth of a summer sky at 8 p.m.
Of course, the young Patty didn’t worry about the state of the world while chasing fireflies with her brothers on the front porch steps of their Virginia home.
Her main concern was that the lightning bugs would not be able to breathe in the glass jar where she housed them. So she set them free and went to bed at peace, a peace I wish for today.
Mr. Moon moved closer to the garden window wrapping me in the warmth of extra light before he replied. One of the many things I love about him is that he does not rush into answers. He takes quiet time to ponder a dilemma, and then responds with a confident assurance that in itself makes me feel safe. I think hope travels with the moon.
His reply softly severed the silence.
“Even the moon doesn’t know that everything is going to be OK. I can only tell you that I will visit your garden window, giving you light, for as long as you need me.”
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