There's something about the full moon that stirs up such longing, for
someone far away or someone in the past, or just a feeling you once had.
Be it love or longing, the full moon - not the crescent moon, the waxing
or waning moon, but the full moon - causes you to pause for reflection.
Once upon a time, someone taught me a counterpoint. It went like this
(with the echoes in parentheses).
I know (I know) you belong....
To somebody new...
But tonight... you belong...to me.
Although (although) we're apart...
You're still part...
Of my heart...
And tonight, you belong...
Just to little ol' me.
Tonight I dined outside, on top of a restaurant named Aries with my friend
and her friend of 20 years: the best pink champagne and Australian Shiraz
to accompany a designer meal and conversation that ranged from work to
play, child to adult, and all the ends of the earth. We sat on a roof
top balcony waiting for the moon to appear. It didn't. Only after herbal
tea and saying goodbye did we spot the distant moon - bright and clear
as it was - it did not conjure up the feelings we expected to have. Not
love, regret, or longing, but instead the lost love that never was.
8 May 2001 Houston