the moon is lovely tonight. come join me.

about 10 years ago, my friend tim left for bootcamp to join the marines, and, for whatever reason, i was so anxious about the whole thing that i ended up writing him a letter every week. it didn’t really help. his letters back to me were filled with stories about a world that seemed so foreign and desolate that it only made the uneasiness grow.

i was thinking about these letters this afternoon while watching the outlines of the moon fade into the powder blue sky. in one of the letters, i remember musing about how beautiful the sunset was and how neat it is that even though we’re experiencing completely different things in completely different places, we can still see the same sunset together. i remember that i used to watch it almost every day that summer, little ol’ me sitting on the curb of a suburban cul de sac, suspended in a thick sticky afternoon — “are you watching it with me too?” and i remember, in your letter in return, you noted the sunset as well. i don’t think you really said much about it; it was probably more of an acknowledgement than anything, but somehow that was all i needed to know that it was all going to be fine.

as i type this from my perch beside the window, i can still see the moon glowing brightly, floating against a now steely navy sky. i can see deep shadows cast by enormous craters that seem so little from far away. i can see the outlines of a circle so perfect that it could only exist outside of our touch — “are you watching it with me too?” and i can see, it’s all going to be fine.