“The moon follows us everywhere, you know.”

It was something my father had once shared with me. We had been driving for hours, and I was growing sad that we might miss a special event. “No matter where you are,” he smiled. “the moon is always there.”

My father has such a way of restoring faith; of bringing the ‘quickly slipping away’ nearer once again. I’ve often found such comfort in these words. Particularly, in those much larger moments when I’ve felt a bit distanced from self.

Many a sonnet has been written of the moon; her charms captured through delicate extensions of poetry, of art, and of music. Oh, and hasn’t she shared her graces through the years?

And, leaving us to wonder…what else has the capacity to shift an entire ocean from shore to shore?

“I’ve tried the new moon tilted in the air,” writes poet, Robert Frost. “Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster, as you might try a jewel in your hair…I’ve pulled it from a crate of crooked trees, and brought it over glossy water, greater. And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow, the color run, all sorts of wonder follow.”

Speak of the moon and once wearied eyes are once again filled with wonderment.

Though, perhaps the greatest gift which she shares – is the manner in which she unites us all.

One common thread forged upon the wishes of a single wandering soul.