Wednesday, December 26, 2007

The noon of the moon

On the Wolverine to Chicago

This is a slightly odd thing. I'm on the train from Ann Arbor to Chicago, and I suddenly notice that the surroundings seem somehow familiar, then realize that I am sitting in the same seat as I sat in outbound. I know this because the tray table has the same distinctive marks, and the electrical outlet has the same plastic clip holding it. Both times I chose it because it was the first empty seat that I came to. I suppose Amtrak runs the same cars back and forth between Chicago and Pontiac, but still it seems funny to get the same seat twice on the same round trip.

I had a very good visit with my friends, and my state of mind is complicated by warring and opposite needs—one to be alone and one to be around people. Of course, I will be alone, but I'm not sure that this is good for me now.

I do feel better than I did, which demonstrates the power that hormones have over me. It's a relief to have some control over myself back and not to feel the arms of the abyss eagerly snatching me toward it and the temptation to succumb.

The other night in Ann Arbor seemed bright to me, even though it was cloudy and the nearly full moon hidden. I mentioned that I was surprised by the seeming amount of light pollution in the area, and my friend and I discussed the topic and the contribution of the full moon.

This morning, though, there could be no doubt. I woke up at 5:00 a.m. and was surprised to see that my borrowed bedroom was bright enough to navigate easily. I looked out the kitchen window and saw diffuse light, deep shadows, and a clear sky over a still, eerie winter landscape that I could think of as my own, as the only witness to it at that early hour.

When I looked out my bedroom window, I saw the moon high up in the sky, making the moment the noon of the moon. The areas of shadows and those of silvery light combined with the lack of color made me feel like I was seeing the world through the eyes of another species, or perhaps seeing a different world altogether.

The noon of the moon . . . I like that.

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