cmontis

Silent Moon By Christina Montis

The moon is my place. I can see it every night, I can see it anywhere, my familiar place.

It’s calming looking up at the moon and the cool breeze rubbing my face. The moon has many phases and sometimes plays hide and go seek. I can always find it as its soft silvery light brings brightness to dark skies. The moon brings peace and comfort to our long days, with that little glow at night. This was a place my father and I shared as a little girl, I called it our silent moon talks.

As a child, my dad stood under the moonlight to end his day. I would tip-toe outside and softly put my tiny hand into his big bear claw. He would give a little squeeze but would continue to gaze at the moon. No words to me, just that little squeeze of knowledge. I often wondered what he was thinking, I never asked while standing there. Hearing the bugs talk to each other as cars speed by our house was distracting when talking with the moon, and still no words. I liked the nights when the moon seemed to smile, it felt like he was looking at my dad and me. This phase on the moon was my favorite. Sometimes it felt like hours passed standing on the driveway gazing at the moon. Occasionally, I would see my dad glance down at me from the corner of his eyes. I would act like I didn’t see him, but a smile would creep out. During our silent moon talk, he would pull his zippo lighter out and flip it open, the smell of lighter fluid would fill my nose; I didn’t like it much. He would then light his Marlboro Red cigarette as he blew the smoke out. It looked like clouds passing over the moon. Our talk was soon over when my dad took a deep breath and then looked down at me, smiling. “Ready to go, Nene?” Smiling with excitement mostly because my legs hurt standing there. We would start walking inside guided by the moonlight. I would turn around and watch the moon disappear into a sea of trees.

As an adult the moon is still my place. I can see it every night, I can see it anywhere, my familiar place.

It is a place full of memories and peace spending those nights with my dad. The moon may hang high but always close to my heart. After my long days I walk outside and look up at him to have a talk silent but comforting. I tip-toe to the end of the driveway thinking in silence collecting my thoughts. I no longer wonder what my dad’s thought were, I now understand. I smoke a cigarette and watch the smoke pass by like clouds, just like when I was a little girl. I take a deep breath; my mind is clear. Walking inside, I watch the moon disappear as it guides me into my home.

Our silent moon talks. I can see it every night, I can see it anywhere, my familiar place.

My dad no longer stands next to me in my familiar place. Still, I can feel him here for our silent moon talk. I’m not able to stand next to him and smile with the moon and talk with my dad. But when I do need a silent moon talk, I can do it any night and everywhere. The moon is my place.