When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Lamp Post
Or lamppost: two p's are correct! I'm as surprised as you! This could be about the movement of spelling, but it's not. It's the movement of the moon. Actually, no. It's the movement of light at night.
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Help me celebrate a Vera Monstera first! I maxed out the characters for the subtitle of this post. No more available characters! That’s amazing. Or it’s poor editing. You decide!
Now, here’s a moony ditty from the vault.
I got butterflies as we drove home last night, seeing a glow out of the corner of my eye. I thought it was the moon. The night was misty, post rain. The air was full—mysterious, romantic. “When the moon hits your eye” and all. As we glided along, the air was thick, insisting on being visible—the kind of air that picks you up and takes you for a ride. Fairy dust forest vines or a benignly haunted attic.
When air is enchanted, you move through it with that certain je ne sais quois. Purpose. Dreaminess. Oozing through a liminal space, the light caught my breath. My heart beat a little faster. That’s amore, they say. The moon! It’s the moon! The feeling of oneness when you see the one.
Starry eyed, I turned to see—you might have guessed—not the moon, but a lamppost. Can you believe you spell it with two p’s? For “big pizza pie?”
The lamp wasn’t a lovely celestial body pulling tides or calling my inner wolf. But— briefly—it was as though I saw a love walk down the street. Just as I bounded over, shouting heartily with goofy grin and wild wave (“Moon!”), I saw my mistake.
There’s little resemblance between the moon and a lamppost. Yes, they’re both light sources. Okay, one is reflecting light and the other—well, no matter.
What matters is the love-at-first-sight feeling the moon gives. And not to be outdone, streetlights CAN hold a candle in the dreamy department. Both show us the way as we stumble around lovelorn, swathed in mystery.
So, we drove on through night air, lit from within.
