Sunday, February 14, 2016

another one about the moon

When I was eight years old I reached so high
I grabbed a handful of the moon and decided to sew it into my heart


But wait. For a minute
Let’s talk about how the moon has phases and
Let’s talk about empty tired gazes
Because I didn’t know about those things at eight
Because full hands aren’t that different from full moons
And I can’t seem to ever remember what gibbous even means

But wait. For a second
Let’s talk about 4 am phone calls with exes
and the roommates who have to listen to them
(me)
About how they’ve talked about the same things for… since forever
And how both their hearts are at half and just need to orbit to new
Or full
Or anything besides half because halves aren’t whole and you’d think that’d be common knowledge
But every night at 4 am they seem to forget.

Anyways,
Back to moon-fulls and stitching hearts
Sometimes I want to blame that eight-year-old me for putting something so unstable
So changing
So inconsistent in my heart,
but I thought it was pretty and my mom had just taught me how to sew

Anyways,
A couple days went by and I turned 18
And the moon either disappeared
Or was staying in phase gibbous because I couldn’t understand it
or
remember it or
find it or feel it enough to even unstitch it

And I just put off writing this for a couple hours to register for classes and I can’t get over how ironic it was because
I ended up signing up for a class called Outer Space and I can almost guarantee they’re going to talk about the moon
And gibbous and phases



So maybe I should sit front row and take good notes and act interested and smile and dress nice
And maybe I’ll get a good grade in the class and be able to map out my heart a little better

The sun doesn’t have phases though
(as I’m sure I’ll learn in my class)
At least not on earth
So maybe me myself and eight-year-old I should’ve sewn in handfuls of the sun

But I didn’t

Anyways,
I still fall in love with the moon
I’ve written about it three times on this blog alone and doodled it on every page of my journal

And really, I think if there were a rocket in my back yard made of cardboard boxes and tin foil
I would be convinced it could get me to the moon

Because I would want it to
Because craters and mountains ranges and reflected light seem like the types of things that would make good stories and better friends and would add up for some good pictures
Because I haven’t felt at full for the last couple weeks and I’m starting to worry
Because I’ve had to reinvent my scale of self-worth thirteen times in the last couple months and I’m starting to worry
Because I want to show her how I know I can make her feel full because I can tell she’s starting to worry

Anyways,
I still think the moon is beautiful, even when it’s new
Even when it’s half
Even when it’s gibbous

And I think eight-year-old me knew that even when the moon disappeared,
It was still there, just waiting to take our breath away the next week

Maybe she knew there was something quite amazing about being able to say you’ve felt empty and half and yet,

To always know you’d make your way back to full. 


BP



3 comments:

  1. "But wait. For a second
    Let’s talk about 4 am phone calls with exes
    and the roommates who have to listen to them
    (me)
    About how they’ve talked about the same things for… since forever
    And how both their hearts are at half and just need to orbit to new
    Or full
    Or anything besides half because halves aren’t whole and you’d think that’d be common knowledge
    But every night at 4 am they seem to forget"
    This paragraph and this whole post was just so real. Don't ever stop writing.

    ReplyDelete
  2. i love this idea of stitching the moon into your heart. this is a really solid post.

    ReplyDelete