Then there is the moon. I love the moon in that impossible child’s way. I saw a sliver of it last night as we came out of the ballpark from the Giants game and it stilled the raucous crowd-pounding of my heart. The hungry gulls swooped in the ballpark’s lights. The two congregations who met continued their chants as they left their stadium sanctuary, one in the frenzy of victory, the other as a ritual to stave off despair. The moon winked at it all.
We drove home over the hypnotic bridge, all shadows rhythmically shaped, a star appearing and disappearing with the regularity of girders.
And so I slept well until this early hour of the morning. So much for that plan.
