I had to move to the country to make friends with the Moon.
For months, I’d been getting only a glimpse of her, peering shyly through the crowd of tall shadowing buildings that made up my concrete neighbourhood, and it was driving me crazy.
Each night I would stand at my window, peeking out from behind the curtains, and wait for the Moon to start her slow ascent across the night sky. Once I spotted her, I’d grab my jacket and run down four flights of stairs, taking them two at a time, until I was bursting out of my apartment block and onto the street.
As soon as I was outside I’d glance up towards the sky to check if she was still there. Like something sliding out of the corner of my eye, I’d just catch her disappearing behind another building and have to break into a sprint to keep up. You see, I desperately wanted to introduce myself.
But the problem with living in the city is that everything is just so tall. Orchestrating an introduction was like running an obstacle course. I’d crane my neck to look skyward, quickly tripping and stumbling over my own feet. I’d encounter unsavoury people down dark alleyways and have to edge my way around them, their spurious intentions flashing behind grimy eyes. I’d climb rattling fire escapes, swallowing my nerves each time I looked down, just so I could get another view. I was a nighttime explorer, casting my eyes towards the distant horizon, navigating all the way to the Moon.
No matter where I went though, something stood in my way, obscuring the view and obstructing my desire to meet her. The brick buildings would tower over me, sternly telling me to go home. It’s not safe to be out after dark, they’d say to me in deep voices. Adamant and inflexible in their stance, they’d rudely refused to move, despite my attempts to dodge around them, and so each month, the Moon would sail away and I would have no choice but to turn around and slink back to my apartment.
The next morning, I’d wake feeling pitiful and angry with myself. I’d had a chance to meet the Moon and I’d messed it up! Then, on my way to work, I’d see her again. A faint silhouette against a brilliant blue sky, still waiting for me to say hello but now too far away to hear me.
This monthly disappointment continued for longer than I care to admit. When I wasn’t wandering the streets trying to find her, the Moon had started to haunt my dreams. I’d wake in fits and starts in the middle of the night, a cold sweat trickling down between my shoulderblades. I’d get up and pad across the wooden floor of my apartment until I reached the window. Each time, I’d draw the curtain back and a sliver of moonlight would pierce through the glass and into my heart. I had slighted the Moon and she wanted an apology.
It was these unsettling dreams that eventually compelled me to take action. In a matter of weeks, I’d packed up my apartment, quit my job and found a little house to rent in the countryside. It’s quiet here and there’s a slower pace to life. Nothing is tall or in the way. There’s no more obstacles and the space is open and vast. I can see for miles around and when the wind blows, it carries no other sounds.
I’m glad to say that, now I’m here, the Moon and I have become the friends she intended us to be. Each month, she completes her alluring slow-dance across the heavens, and I get a front row seat. First she spins toward me and then away, a delicious quarter turn at a time. She is perfect and glowing against the pitch black skies. The night is so clear that I can see the patterns on her skin and the stars twinkle faintly, bowing to her majesty.
With a glance over her shoulder, she’ll send a vibration down from above and I’ll feel her strange enigmatic pull as it reverberates through my body. I know she’s enticing me, beckoning me and I have no will left to stop her. With a pale whisper she commands my surrender and I become enthralled. The Moon will beam down on me and, as I bask in the warm glow of her allure, I’ll lift my head towards the heavens and let her feast upon my soul.
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Backyard tales 