Moonstruck

I'm standing in my beautiful kitchen making myself a salad for dinner; my CD player sings a song just for me and I look over the river, which is black and made from liquid glass. I've been craving a little bit of time to myself, but now that I'm at home the first night this week, I feel kind of alone, although I'm not lonely.

The moon was full yesterday and it is still so beautiful today that it takes my breath away. It lights up the surface of the water and turns it into a velvety mysterious ice field. I turn off the music because the night is so quiet and gentle and stand on the window, surrendering to a sudden sadness that washes over me like warm water. I feel like crying but the tears stop just before they reach my eyes. The melancholy is friendly and not without hope, but still I feel like I used to be able to handle it better, which of course is not true.

I think about how I feel like going and staying at the same time and it makes my head spin. While I know that tomorrow morning all will be well again, tonight I'm not sure where I need to be and where I belong.