Tuesday, October 11, 2011

midnight haunts

Have you ever been so engulfed in a moment's brilliance that you had no idea of its actual expanse of time? Einstein called this the theory of relativity. I can't tell you what I call it.

The moonlight caught my eye this evening, so I decided to step outside. The dampness of the air called for me to put on a shirt over my tanktop and beckoned me to stay outside. I currently live in the national cemetery and decided to take a walk. Through the cemetery. A misty haze hung through the trees and over the headstones. The moonlight illuminated the haze, creating an atmosphere that some might even call "haunting."

First, I stopped at the rostrum, a brick structure originally designed as a site for contemplation, reunions, and ceremony. The surrounding cedar tree branches framed the almost-full moon perfectly. From the rostrum I could see row upon row of limestone headstones reflecting the moon's beams. I decided to continue closer to the heart of the cemetery.

The stillness of the cemetery was broken by the few crickets' songs that struck the air. Each beam of light, from the moon, to the businesses along the backside of the cemetery, to the passing traffic along Old Nashville Highway, pierced the haze deliberately, peacefully. I could feel the evening dew dampen my sandaled feet but did not stop walking further into the cemetery. The cemetery. A place where fallen soldiers have been buried for our concept of eternity. A place of which I may never fully grasp its meaning.

The moon was mine. I did not have to share. It was given to me as a gift. A gift to remind me that some things never change, that regardless of how I feel my life is happening, there are always constants: moon rising, stars sparkling, nighttime solitude. I don't know how long I stood out there. And I probably need to wash my feet from the abundance of grass clippings. But this evening has become one of many in which I will tuck away into my pocket and pull out in my future. A moment to remember for my lifetime. A treasure. And nobody can ever take that away from me.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

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