Moon Giver
Bev Vines-Haines

I live by the moon. I’m aware a lot of people say that. But I mean it so much more.

Take the new moon. It calls for complete hibernation. I am inside. No lights. No meals. My intake of food is governed by the moon’s light. I cannot see the cat. Sounds absurd, I know. The cat is black and with no lights on in the house it is easy to avoid seeing her. However, I mean I can NOT see the cat. If I even catch a glimpse of her I am required to take exactly five showers, no towel allowed, and to sit in my recliner shivering until I am completely dry. And I count. To five thousand. Five times. Needless to say, I will do anything to avoid seeing that cat.

I do not eat until I can see Planet shine. For the next several days I eat just one meal. And I am sparing. Often only a few crackers. I can feed the cat again for which she is grateful. My spirits rise a bit. I have learned the more moonlight I can see the better my moods and my freedom.

Even during this hot August, life picks up by the Quarter Moon. I have met people who actually think that means just one fourth of illumination is visible. They don’t know their moon. The Quarter Moon is half illuminated. Surprised? Many folks are. At this point I can open my blinds fully for observation. The cat and I can both enjoy a bit of tuna and I am known to bake a potato or roast a small squash. I, of course, refuse to watch television. The screen casts a faux moon glow which I will not tolerate.

The Three Quarter Moon takes my breath away. That is when my blood flows in an excited and a wild way. I dance. Sometimes I even dance with the cat. We eat. Nay, we feast. She gets moist, wet canned salmon and I eat a full two meals. Perhaps a midday omelet and something with pasta and sauce before bed. There are no punishments, no rituals.

And then glory of glories! The moon is full. Oh we eat, that cat and I. We have roasts. And shrimp. I eat fruit and rich crusty breads. We watch cartoons and eat popcorn and cereal. Sadly, my joy is tempered because the waning moon is so close at hand.

I feel the darkness before it arrives. The blinds stay closed. I peek at the shadowing moon and my mood closes down with each passing day. I used to think things would get better.

They will not.

There’s only one moon.

First published: August 2018
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