Super Moon

Last night, just as the sun began to set, I began a long drive home.    I don't often get to just sit and watch the sky, but last night was an exception.  I was a captive audience to the most amazing moon transformation!  I wasn't washing dishes, I wasn't putting kids to bed, I wasn't sorting paperwork or homework or planning for tomorrow.  For two and a half hours, I just watched the moon.  Well, and the roads, of course.  The roads were pretty deserted, because everyone else was busy sitting on their patios, watching the moon with their kids.   I called a friend to let her know how beautiful it was, and believe it or not, they had known in advance that the supermoon eclipse was coming.  They had their camera all set up already.  They probably even had popcorn.  

​I, apparently, was the only one on earth that didn't know it this was planned in advance.  Like everything else in life, it took me by surprise.  And I didn't have my camera with me.

​But I had coffee.  I had silence.  And I had the moon.   The night felt so ethereal and majestic;  I wanted to be part of it, be in it.  Being hermetically sealed in a metal car, looking through a window wasn't enough.  I wanted to fly, to feel the wind on my face, and breathe in the night...  

So I rolled down all my car windows, just in time to be flooded with a fog of fresh woodland skunk.
​Way to ruin my dreams of night flying.  
​Back in my sardine can.  The moon was glorious anyway, even when viewed through a window.

I made it home just before the moon disappeared completely under the red shadow... 
My kids and I watched the rest of the magnificent eclipse together, breathing in the damp dark air, laughing together in the glow of the moon.   No homework.  No skunks.

​And that's just the way I would have planned it.