“HOLD DEAR, THIS PEACEFUL GLIMPSE OF SUCH A COMMON OCCURRENCE “

By: Sharon Sciarelli-Halliday

Thursday, December 08, 2011 – 8:45 p.m.

At this evening hour, as I hurried to gather the last bits of trash to put out at curbside, I felt a sense of anticipation. Not a foreboding, but more a feeling of looking forward to my short venture out into the crisp pre-winter air.

I chose a heavier jacket this night, as the warm spell of weather we had been having took a turn toward the norm of chill for this time of year.

I made my way through the two front doors, with my bag of trash in tow, taking care to keep the storm door unlocked as I shut it behind me. I truly love the crispness of this pre-winter air, though not enough to be in its icy grip until the morn, had I left a locked door behind me.

After putting my trash to curbside, I headed back to this good old front porch. As I lit a not-so-necessary cigarette, I set forth to reflect on my simple day.

I imagined what this little nighttime neighborhood must have been like more than forty years past. Certainly more quiet, not even a vehicle passing by, with only the sound of my own heartbeat, and the end-of-the-day images floating past my mind’s eye.

As I quietly recalled the events of this day, now nearing its end, I glanced up at the moon. It was waxing toward full, bright, and encircled by a magical pattern of nighttime clouds. I thought, “Hello up there, anyone lookin’ back at me on this big blue marble?”

I then spied the twinkling lights of a jet on high, looking as if it was heading right toward this waxing moon. I stared, as the jet seemed to glide just underneath it, while leaving its vapor trail behind. I tried to imagine what those folks on that jet might have seen under its glorious lunar glow.

I stood for a few more moments, as I watched the jet’s vapor trail widen, with the winds aloft casting it adrift. Whilst in my realm of thoughtful bliss, I vowed to “hold dear, this peaceful glimpse of such a common occurrence.”

As I headed from this good old front porch, back into the warmth of my home, I thought, “Good night waxing moon; come Saturday you’ll be on the wane. Good night beautiful moon, I’ll see you yet again.”