Notes of Appreciation

The Moon

January 19, 2019

It surprised me to see the moon the other afternoon. I was walking outside to find lunch. The sky was mostly clear — an aberration in Juneau. And there it was, rising over Mount Roberts, looking like it had taken the tram up and would continue its slow trek above the Gastineau Channel and over Douglas Island later that night.

I was giddy, as though I had spotted a celebrity in my neighborhood cafe or found someone’s lost dog. I got my phone out and took photos — seven in total. The moon. That old friend from back home who used to come and visit me nearly every night. The one I hadn’t seen in a while. The one I’d kinda missed without realizing it.

By that night, the moon was hanging out in my window. To its left was Orion and, left of him, a bright, green-red pulsing star. After consulting my star chart app, I determined it was Sirius. Around that same time I also determined that I was rarely so interested in the names and locations of stars before I moved to Juneau. I’ve always kept track of the moon and the planets, but I’ve treated the stars as a backdrop to all the things hovering in my vicinity. The moon. Mars. Venus. Jupiter. Twitter. TV. The street out my window. The text message I sent three hours ago with dubious phrasing and tone. The email I received four days ago that I still haven’t responded to. The shower I should probably take. The things I need to buy. The things I did today. The things I need to do tomorrow or, failing that, the next day. The ridge of my nose. The insides of my eyelids. The noise. The echo. Lunch.

And then one day, the clouds dissipated, and I noticed Sirius blinking at the moon. All along, wherever I go, there are the stars. What a knotty circumstance: If it weren’t so cloudy all the time, maybe I wouldn’t appreciate the moon and the deep field of everything around it.