with the moon, in case I haven't mentioned that before. And Culebra is an excellent place to have our affair. I should be writing this tomorrow, when the moon is actually full, but when I got hit in the eyes tonight as La Bella Luna rose over the hill...I couldn't wait until tomorrow. Especially a moon with a Culebra shaped cloud under it!
There is something about the moon rising over the water, any water (though I prefer salt), that silver line growing toward the shore...when I was a teen, we'd climb out of our windows, hearing the sea gull call signal (lucky for you there is no sound bite here) and a half dozen neighborhood kids would head to the beach to swim in the light of the moon. Literally. Staying in that silver path was a sort of magic that pulls as strongly as the moon pulls the tides and I'm forever drawn (though I haven't gone swimming in the moon path in way too long).
Someone told me that being geographically fixated as far as where one lives is an indicator of a narrow mind. Call me narrow minded then, but for me to stay anchored in the world I have to be able to see water...the moon rising over it, that ever changing constant. And see it I do...every moonrise, when I look out my window.
"So at last she set out on her way and walked many, many days and whomever she met she asked: "Can you tell me the way to the castle that lies East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon?" But no one could tell her."
This fairy tale got it wrong in my case...as they so often do. No place is happily ever after and a palace may be very tiny. The witch doesn't live here (nor the prince either), east o' the sun and west o' the moon. One thing was true...no one could tell me how to get here.
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