By the Light of the Moon

What will we dream of?

“The moon is friend for the lonesome to talk to.” Carl Sandburg

This morning, when I awoke at around 8 am, with my husband, who suffers from insomnia, thankfully sleeping beside me, and one of our three cats on top of me with another under the covers, I wanted to go back to sleep, but couldn’t.

I couldn’t return to the relative blissfulness of sleep, yet I didn’t want to get up. I thought, “What’s the point?”

Today will be just like yesterday, if not worse. There will be more deaths, more lies from our disgraceful President and his “task force,” with the exception of Dr. Anthony Fauci…and an even deeper, darker level of anxiety. Like a cloak that mysteriously thickens every time you put it on.

We’re all feeling like this. And dealing with it the best we can. I don’t always do so well, as my propensity for imbibing increasing amounts of wine, will attest.

When the dark thoughts crowded in, I jumped out of bed, quickly dressed and ventured out into the 37-degree Chicago weather for a brisk walk. “Motion” is always my go-to for dealing with my particular demons.

I wore my winter jacket, a scarf around my head and gloves and I was still cold. But, the quicker I walked, the faster I warmed up. I was alone. There wasn’t another soul in sight. It was eerie, but oddly, not unpleasant.

As the sun broke through the clouds and the birds tweeted their greeting, I let my mind drift to thoughts of summer…and warmth, and light.

Summer is magic. Those first warm days, so luscious in their feel, their smell, embuing us with pleasure almost sensual in its nature.

We feel sexier in the summer. The heat on our skin, the scent of grass freshly cut…I thought of all of this as I walked and looked at the homes in our neighborhood. Everything so quiet, so still.

My husband recently remarked how blessed we are to have a deck to escape to when it finally warms up here. Yes, we are both grateful for this.

I can’t wait. I’ll sweep the dead leaves away, schlep the furniture out, rehang our many windchimes and make sure the bird feeders are filled.

Funny, although we feed them all year long, the birds have been scarce this winter, almost as if they’re trying to escape our reality. Our “abnormal new normal.” Slowly, they’ve been returning. Grasping at whatever straws I can, I’ll take that as a sign. A good one.

Summer nights. Are they not mystical in their very nature? The heat of the day not as intense but warming, still. Fireflies teasing us with their eensy, weensy lamps. On, off. On, off. And the moon. Oh, the moon.

This summer, the nights will be quieter, I expect. No idiots heedlessly racing down side streets, just because they can. Why? Where is there to go, after all?

CNN and the news be damned. When summer rolls ‘round, I’ll be out on the deck, in the soft dark of night, whispering my secrets to the man in the moon.

Will he hear me? Who can say, but I will reveal myself in his silvery light, and feel cleansed. It’s coming. No virus can hold summer back. Oh, please…let that be true.

No. I’m not going there. Summer is coming. And, as we take whatever steps necessary to get out of bed every morning and face the day, we can go out on our decks, our patios, sit on balconies, in yards or whatever patch of grass we’re lucky enough to have and take in some much-needed light. Bask in the light.

Hold onto that thought. Better yet, let’s hold onto it, together.

And I’ll keep thinking of the man in the moon. Of the dreams, I’ll share. For my family, for the world and for you.

What dreams will you share?

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

Thanks so much for reading, gang. If you enjoyed this, please check out the other stories below.

Also, if you’re seeking further distractions during this tough time, please consider subscribing to my new newsletter, where I’ll do my damndest to keep you entertained.