For the first time in my life, I am level with something bigger than myself. Something bigger than all I’ve ever known – the moon.

It sits as a silvery disk on the horizon, spotlighting the strokes of cloud beneath, and for a moment, I envisioned a polished and gleaming stage upon which, I was so eager to perform. But, it’s night time, I remind myself.

For once, this was not a foreign force residing overhead, keeping a very silent watch on my most vulnerable hours. No, this felt like someone I could’ve known.

I love the moon, I say to myself as I pass it on the plane.

It meets me with delicate frosty whispers, and unlike the sun, doesn’t shout my name. It alludes to much, without giving that much away. It knows more than it’s letting on. I sense as much.

And, to the moon, I asked: What will tomorrow bring? What have you seen? And, who has seen you? How many people must’ve met with you! And, up here, thousands of feet in the air, you meet with me.

I look around to make sure that it is, indeed, me it is meeting with. Heads are buried and yielding to the invisible pressure of their fatigue. Shoulders have collapsed into a vibrant sea of laundry. It is, like I had wished, just me and the moon. Eye to luminous eye.

I have met you in many, many lives, I think.