Last night the moon sported a halo; a ring of lighted clouds circling clear black sky, like a hole punched through to the back of the universe.
A man on the street with a saxophone plays Auld Lang Syne - not a brilliant rendition, but competent - I'm just sentimental enough to slow down and turn a smile his way. He breaks off mid-song and waves. Happy New Year, he calls. As I walk away, he rolls into You Are My Sunshine; ten steps later and it's Pop Goes the Weasel. I wonder if these are the only tunes he knows.
Not everything transcends.
But just ahead of me is a woman in a miniskirt, her black stockings growing a hole and running just beneath her round bottom, and it's enough: I love her and the run in her stockings, her wide hips and the cheap windbreaker hanging from her shoulders.
A friend gave birth yesterday: twin boys, each weighing less than her hardback edition of Anna Karenina. They got here too early for any of us to be easy, but so far so good. One slugged the other on the way out, gifting him with a shiner, an early tell of which is which. This could be a good sign, a will to fight their way back from the far edge of the possible. Welcome to the world, brother.
In an hour or so I'll put on my party dress and dance in the new year with noisy revelers, but for me the year crept in on baby feet last night. The moon swung like a pendant in its halo of bare sky, sneaking through the blinds and prying open my eyes; I'm wide awake out here on this dizzy edge, waiting to see what happens next.
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true stories, found objects and scratch fiction
4 comments:
Happy new year, CB. I'm glad the little babes are rockem sockem ready to live. And I'm glad for a new beginning for us all, even if it is just a bunch of numbers, really.
Last night while we were out we noticed a gentle glow gathering in the crook of two mountains. We pulled over into a quiet street to watch, and were rewarded first with strange flashes of light and then a Blue Moon that peeped at us from behind its dancing veil. It was a mysterious and majestic rise and I had the feeling not many people were watching. The stocking covering the sky had just enough of a hole started that we were able to peep at the entire lunar entrance, but then, slip, that moonface vanished into the darkness. I'd rather have seen light that than any city disco ball descending from a crane.
Thanks, Geo.
Moonlight can be a powerful harbinger for a new year, the world turning toward the sun again, longest night is done and the light returns, little by little.
In Seattle, all we got was a brief glimpse, and then the overcast rolled in.
But yesterday (Sat.), after driving from Seattle down the coast in one big go, and seeing huge turquoise and green surf, and sea stacks, and giant redwoods wreathed in mist and fog, I came out through the Waldo Tunnel to be greeted by the sight of San Francisco Bay without a cloud in the sky and zero fog, from horizon to horizon, and far off behind the Berkeley hills rose the moon, copper-colored and bigger than Alcatraz.
All I could do was slow down, gawp like moron and literally say out loud, "And I thought I couldn't see anything better after today."
The universe is a hard show to beat.
Oh, and (another) great post CB!
Thank you for being wide awake. You're terribly inspiring in this state!
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