I never get tired of looking at the moon.
Truth be told, it seems as though every time I look at it, I feel like it is the first time that I ever saw it, and will take every opportunity to share my enthusiasm with anyone else that will look at it with me, or at the very least, listen to me go on about how magnificent I think it is.
I think my love for the moon started when I was a little girl, and one of my nighttime songs sung to me so sweetly by my mother was “my sweetheart man in the moon”
I remember searching the full moon for the face of that man in the moon, swearing that I could see him, and he was smiling down at me as well.
Every stage of it, in all of its different phases, from the slightest sliver, to the fullest harvest moon, always succeeds in taking my breath away.
It has a way of making me feel close and connected to whomever in my life that may be far away from me.
The thought that while I am looking up at the magnificent moon, there could be that someone special looking up at the same moon, and no matter how far apart on this earth that we are, we are close, connected, and that somehow comforts me.
I have no idea why I feel so connected to the moon, or what makes is so special to me. It is most likely a combination of all of the above reasons, or, maybe even something deeper…
It doesn’t really matter to me though why I feel this way.
I am just grateful to have the moon to look at in all of its phases, its glory and awe, every day, and every night.