These moons were a gift from Jude. Most of them a long while back. I've been holding on to them, waiting for just the right place.
There has been a cloth brewing in my mind for the last couple of moons, waiting for more time.
And then Sunday…Orlando. Thirteen-year-old Moon with questions about it all. Remembering Charleston and Sandy Hook. Moon imagining what it must have been like. Thinking of the husband/father of a woman and children we know, who was driving them home at the end of the day. Moon imagining what it must have been like. Remembering a young man I knew, who was walking home one night. Remembering two musicians who were hanging out in a cafe one morning. All of them gone. And the many others, all within Moon's thirteen years.
So, I've stopped waiting, and started stitching, and un-stitching, and re-stitching a story for myself.
It's about remembering, holding, going, . . . the Weight of Story, and the Light of it, too.
