The last time there was a Supermoon I stayed up way past midnight, leaving man and dog in the bedroom to take my camera to the clearing and photograph the poetry in the sky phenomenon. The photos were published in our local paper.
Last night, though, even though I knew the best Supermoon in my lifetime was going to be at peak showing, I neither stayed up late nor arose early. Instead, I sank down deep into the bed we call “the cloud,” pulled the soft gold feather duvet up until it touched my earlobes and pondered how it might be possible for me to unmemorize myself.
Sleep came quickly and I woke as usual at 6, just when the pup made her verbal plea for my ears only. My husband slept on, hearing aids on the bedside table, and yet aware of my exit from our warm bed. I knew he would turn into that warmth, head on my pillow, and dream for another two hours.
When the pup and I stepped out into the chill morning, I knew at once the thick cloud cover would have obscured the moon. And so I imagined it instead, smiling.