The moon is brilliant tonight. Pregnant and leaning heavy towards the earth. I walk through the garden unhindered by the shadows, for the light of the moon can guide me where I wish. Moonbeams dance upon freshly watered squash and bean leaves. Thousands of spherical beads of crystalline light glisten among the foliage.
The air smells of citronella from torches still burning. At dusk they were lit to chase away the mosquitoes so my son could help me water the garden. After spraying the plants and himself for an hour, the sun sank away and the moon rose. Fireflies frolicked into the yard. I carefully caught a firefly in my hand and showed it to my four year old son. His eyes lit up. Magic. We proceeded to chase the fire flies around the yard calling them, "blinkers." I felt 12 all over again.
Now all is quite, he sleeps. Yet a few birds are calling. The mocking birds are chattering away. Confused perhaps by the brightness of the moon, they think it is morning. Crickets also chirp their romantic mating song. No, it is not quite at all. But my mind is quite... And that is the quietness so hard to find and so special to hold.