Did you see the moon last night? He rose just above the live oaks on our street, a few nights from full, missing a sliver yet still impressive. He watched over me, illuminating the neighborhood as I walked around the corner to Jill’s house. I carried a bottle of Chardonnay in my groovy wine tote—a must-have in our porch-partying neighborhood.
The night was unseasonably warm. I felt lighter as though years and pounds and worries had melted away with my new haircut.
I had forgotten to eat all day and imagined what the evening’s menu would be. These nights were more about the food and friends than the month’s book selection.
Jill’s porch light wasn’t lit.
Tonight I shall try again. The moon will be even brighter.
P.S. I had popcorn for dinner and saved the wine for tonight…