I am unable to tell you this, but I think of you every time I see the moon. Every time — that’s a lot of times. I think about how you’re mystical and gave me that onyx pendant to help absorb and deflect all the negativity in my life. I’m not mystical, so I don’t really believe that’s occurring when I wear the necklace, but it was the most meaningful gift anyone has ever given to me.
I am so sorry that I married him before I met you. But it can’t be undone. Well, technically, it can — but it won’t. I won’t.
* * *
I saw the Super Harvest Moon!
That’s what scientists call it when once every 20 years the full moon and the sun align in such a way that, as Dr. Egbert Pinkerton of NASA says, “the moon looks like freaking ginormous.”
I got all ready! At precisely 7:03 p.m. ET, I was seated atop a hill in a folding lawn chair. I had my fancypants camera mounted on a tripod. I had a grill and a package of “Tofu Pups.” I had assembled a plate of fresh fruit and exotic cheeses. I had a kegger of my Appalachian uncle’s homemade applejack.
Oh, it was going to be a fine night ‘neath the celestial vault of Heaven!
At 7:04 p.m. — the time when the outer-spatial orbs were scheduled to click into their fortuitous places — I felt a slight rumble in the ground beneath my quaint gingham picnic blanket. It really was a cute picnic blanket. I got it at Target, for a really good price. It was red-and-white checkered. Totally cute.
Oh, right — the Earth was all a-tremble.
I looked up at the moon — and like whoa, it was freaking ginormous. Totally huge.
“Well, color me impressed!” I hollered up into the darkening vertical yonder.
The moon turned a sort of lime-green shade, then purple. I watched from my Target blanket as a hole ripped open in the very fabric of reality, and out popped a chihuahua in royal raiment, smelling of daffodils and coriander, spouting prophesies and carried aloft by four servants from ancient Egypt…
Man oh man, that was some show!
Did I mention that I drank all my applejack? Ha ha! Oh, life! Golly!