While sitting in our living room writing this evening, I paused for thought, glancing upward from my fixed view of the computer screen, and discovered the moon peering down at me through our window.  Full. Round. Bright. Beautiful!

Transfixed by its splendor, I quickly went outside to soak in the glory of this magnificent natural satellite.  As I stood on our porch, basking in the brilliance of the evening’s light, I was reminded of an Eric Carle book I used to regularly enjoy with Judson and now periodically read with Jessie, per her request.

“Papa, please get the moon for me?” Monica asked her grandfather after looking out her window and feeling as though it was so near.  Her papa proceeds to get a very long ladder, places it on a very high mountain, and climbs all the way up to the moon.  He, in fact, retrieves the moon for Monica to play with…

until it disappears.

Tonight, I too wanted to reach out and grab the moon, just like Monica.  I wanted to play with it, dance with it, and never let it go.  But then it vanished behind some trees.

Sometimes the most perfect beauty is only briefly tangible to us.

I’ve held and loved such beauty.