The Moon

When I was born, I was able to look up to the sky and see the Moon, watching me grow and take my first steps. The Moon was always there, as someone who I could look up to for when I needed help. The Moon was a teacher, a role model, a protector, and a friend.

Not so long ago, a storm engulfed my life, shrouding the moon that I gazed upon into a tempestuous flurry. When the Storm cleared, I looked to the sky for the Moon, but it had been swept away in the squall that had left me feeling so unwanted and cast aside. In the remaining years before the storm, I noticed that the Moon I used to look up to was gradually retreating into the dark depths of the sky, fading away into a blurry silhouette, and shifting into a new phase that was unable to reflect the same light it had once shone upon me in my childhood. When I was young, I had witnessed storms, but no storm I had ever experienced was capable of rivaling the magnitude of the powerful gales and waves that I had just weathered. I always had a voice in the back of my mind — warning me; telling me of the Storm — but I chose to ignore the thought, ensuring my young self that I would never have to encounter such a momentous cyclone.

After the Moon shifted and faded away, I was in shambles. It was so hard for me to comprehend the recent events as I drowned in the flood caused as the Moon faded away following the Storm. At the time, I was unable to pick myself up and carry on. I felt that I was at an all time low in my life. The fears and anxiety of the Storm I was told of during my childhood was becoming a harsh reality that I was ill-equipped to confront. I felt so disconnected and I was stranded in the deep dark abyss of my emotions. I felt alone, betrayed, and abandoned; and my mind was an impenetrable vault where I kept my feelings, thoughts, and anger locked away behind an opaque wall, invisible to others; I internally felt helpless. I always wondered and pondered on the question of “Why?”, why did, and how could the Moon just desert me like that? Leaving me without its light when I needed it? Even now, following the desperation to answer the question I posed, I tell myself that it’s because the Moon did not love me enough to stay; the Moon had more important places to reflect its light upon...

The first months without the Moon were an experience I never thought I would know. It was so different not having the Moon around; it was such a dark time. About twice a year, the Moon returns and visits me in the crimson shroud of the Blood Moon. I have trouble looking at the Blood Moon because of its vastly different appearance; but under the burgundy garb, hides and cowers the Moon that watched me grow up; the Moon that used to love me. It presents itself, ignobly acting as if it had been there the whole time, when in reality, it’s been gone a long time. During those times, I cherish the moments, and the feelings I get are akin to the ones I used to get before the Storm, happiness and feeling of being loved. I wish and silently plead that the Moon would not retreat back into the dark depths of the sky, “Please, don’t leave. Please don’t leave again.”, but it’s something that’s out of my control; a wish that will never come true. As dawn arises, the Moon goes back into hiding, only to be seen again another day... Some day...

When the Moon fades away time and time again, the Sun rises in its place, being there for me when the Moon is gone. The Sun has been everything that it could have been for me since the Moon was swept away; taking its place, holding me up, keeping me together, and helping me out. I don’t know what I would do without the light and guidance of the Sun ever since the Moon faded away. I know that the Sun has only unconventional love for me; and whenever it rises, its light rays shine over the horizon with great radiance, letting me know that it's there for me. With the Moon gone, the Sun is what’s lighting up my world.

Whenever I look up to the sky, on those nights when you can see the twinkle in all the stars, I can vaguely see the Moon far, far away; and I talk to the Moon, but it’s not the same as it used to be. I remember on one occasion, the Moon told me it was sorry for what it had done and the storm that it had caused. I could not bring myself to say anything meaningful to the Moon, and open up about how I actually, truly felt. I remember staring blankly into the dark depths of the sky where the Moon resides after retreating all those years ago, unable to bring myself to be completely honest at all to let the Moon know how I truly felt. Unknown to even myself if I meant what I said, all I could bring myself to say to the Moon was: “I know, Dad. It’s ok.”