The moon shone brighter than the nightlight back in my childhood tonight.
It’s been a while since I last saw the moon. We simply didn’t cross paths most of the time, and even if I found myself walking back home later than usual, the night sky was littered with clouds. Sometimes, the moon must have been in its waning phases, meekly shining but could not capture my eyes.
Tonight was filled with a full moon, but it felt larger, like my sight zoomed in as best as it could, wanting to grasp every inch of its surface area. If only I could zoom in…
A camera could! My hands brought out my phone with the agility a thief would die for. I pointed my camera to the night sky, where I could see my desired target, but the moonlight formed rays with near-distinct shapes and points. I clicked on the screen where the moon was, and while the rays retreated, the moon’s scars and crannies were a blur.
My bespectacled eyes saw the moon better than the latest gadget.
A heavy sigh escaped me as I resigned my phone back to its pocket. Yet, I could still feel a moon-shaped hole in my heart. A desire to have it to myself, to take care of it across months, to be the one that will show everyone its beauty. I want to be the reason why the moon shines so bright.
As the thought crossed my mind, an Astronomy lesson flashed right back at me:
The moon shines because of someone else.
As I gave the moon one last deep gaze, I continued my walk home alone, and whispered to myself,
The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?
Harvey Lingat is a teacher from the Philippines and has taught creative writing and literary criticism. He taps into writing as a medium of catharsis and hopes that his works may find a wider audience beyond his peers.
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