Hi. I’m not sure what kind of night you’re having because you look like you always do. I guess that’s part of being the moon; sitting in the middle of night,not saying much or doing much at all. Just looking. Waiting. Maybe for someone to look up and say ‘Hi’? I don’t know.
I feel like I can talk to you. Is it because of your kind phase? Sorry, bad moon joke.
Anyway, I wish I could cop a ride to where you are. We could hang out. I’ll do most of the talking. Okay, all of it.
We’ll look down at this crazy world, watch as the pesky humanoids go about, trying to make sense of existence.
We’ll shake our heads at the clueless ones. We’ll want to shout and tell them to face reality. But we won’t. Reality will walk up to them and punch them right in the face; her flight might be a little late but she’ll get there eventually. Our hearts will break as we see theirs do. A tear may fall as theirs fall in torrents.
But on the other side of town, there are the hopeful ones. The dreamers. Lost in their own worlds, they barely register the one before them. That’s not always a good thing.
They’ll look up to us. We’ll be surprised at first. Shocked that they are looking directly at us. You won’t be able to turn but I’ll look behind us to see if they’re trying to catch the eye of a zooming shooting star. But it’ll be us that they’re looking at ; the moon and (his? Her? We should really have that conversation ) trustee sidekick.
For some reason, they wont ask me to give you guys a minute. For that night, all dreamer- moon privilege shall be waived.
Then they’ll tell us their heart, their pain, their deepest desires.
We’ll listen. Could we do anything beyond that? For some reason, you will be brighter. As if the dreams and pain of dreamers are the light you reflect back.
She’ll leave the house,wanting to just be outside. It’s a warm night and the moon seems to be beckoning her. She doesn’t think much about it but she knows what she feels. She goes with her gut.
He’ll be walking down the street. He wont know where he’s going, but not home. Not right away. His chest will have a dull ache. Incessant. A slow burn on the inside. Never stopping. Never getting better.
He’ll see the bench, perfectly encased in the amber street light and he’ll know it’s where he was going. He’ll sit down with a sigh, wishing he could rip out his heart and be done with the pain.
He wont notice her sit beside him as his head will be buried in his hands.
‘Beautiful night, isnt it?’
He’ll look at her,sursprised. She’ll be smiling slightly, looking up at us. He wont be able to stop looking at her. The amber street light and the silverish moonlight will play on her features beautifully. She’ll look at him for the first time. He’ll look up at us quickly as the dull throb in his heart turns to flustered beats. They’ll look up at us, not really seeing us, but the possibilities of the next lifetime.
He’ll be glad that he didn’t rip out his heart. He may have some use for it after all.
To every journey, there is an end. And to this journey, that end has come. Mwende the dreamer was born over two years ago but now it’s time she grew up a little.
I appreciate you, dear reader, who has been with me throughout the journey. Listening to my winding monologues and pushing me on when the hill got too steep.
I hope that you’ll join me as I start a new on my new platform mwendeideally.com.
You didn’t think I was actually quitting, did you? I’d go crazy if I didn’t write!
See you guys on the other side 😉