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I remember that night well. I was in the tiny wooden bunkhouse, sitting on my makeshift bed in the small upper section, pondering. It was early, yet. Not even midnight. But all was silent. Another girl lay on the sofa, about ten feet below me. She was my cousin, and she was sound asleep. Even then, I wondered how she could sleep so much, night or day. But at least she was smart. She'd left the lamp on, even though it was bright and only a couple of feet away from her. She knew I'd never slept nearly as much as she did, knew that I'd be wide awake for at least an hour more.
It was then that it occurred to me that I wasn't stuck here. I was in a forest, directly beside a very small beach, and the full moon was out. And it was almost midnight.
When I realized this, the idea swept me off my feet and I felt that odd sensation, the way I do when I feel so close to whatever it is I long for. A sense of urgency, perhaps, or excitement. It is hard to pinpoint. I checked my clock. Eleven fifty-four. I climbed down the ladder as quietly as I could, looking around to see if I could find my notebook. Spying its blue, papery form, I checked my clock again. Eleven fifty-five. I wished time would go faster. I could see the moonlight through the door, and I felt it, too. It seemed almost to be calling to me.
At eleven fifty-eight I went outside. The door creaked slightly as I opened it, but luckily my cousin did not stir. I hurried along the stones that made the path to the beach and arrived there at eleven fifty-nine.
At midnight I stepped gently into the cool lake, looking up. The water was liquid crystal, playing carelessly with shards of the milky moon that deigned to reflect itself upon its surface.
The moon. That night it was the spirit of a pearl, the song of the stars, the joys of all the dreamers. It was what the day longs for. Up to my knees I waded, transfixed, never wanting anything to spoil this. It was more than I hoped; for really anticipation is never a true photograph. Life had at that moment been distilled to one moment, a moment not sweet but posessing so much beauty, it was enough to make me woozy. And it was enough to keep me strong.
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Title:
The Moonlight
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Artist:
Azalea Star
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Description:
A few years ago I was visiting my cousin's cottage. This is an account of a precious while I had when I was there, a while that is still dear to me.
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Date:
04/18/2009
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Tags:
moonlight
wonder
night
remember
lovely
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