Super Moon a Super Surprise

As many of you know, I recently had cataract surgery.  My eyes had deteriorated to the point that seeing at night was a festival of glaring light, and my depth of field was getting to be non-existent, making driving....interesting.

Thank goodness that is all in the past.

A cell phone camera rendering of the super moon

The Super Moon has made me realize how glad I am about that.

I woke close to 6 a.m. today, and realized that I may still have a shot at seeing the moon.  It was too cloudy last night when the moon rose to see anything.

I stepped outside on a typical Florida morning and looked up and there it was...bright, shiny, clear, and DETAILED.

I could SEE the definition of craters and other geographical features.  Mountains?  Not sure.

But the point here is this:  I saw the moon, not as the round white blob I've been seeing for many, many years even with glasses, but the way I saw it as a child.

I was suddenly in a different time and place. My driveway on Montrose Avenue in Cleveland, Ohio, staring up a the moon and wondering, wondering....

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Now, I know it is true that the lack of definition on the moon has never taken away its magic.  I have found the moon a wonderful companion throughout my adult life, in all its manifestations.  When we lived on Harad Court in Macedonia, Ohio, we had a skylight in our master bath.  There were times the moon shone in through that skylight and reached all the way in to rest its reflective light on me, sleeping in my bed.  I felt like the moon did that on purpose, slipping in to tap me on the shoulder just to say, "I'm here."

When I moved to Florida,  one of the things I didn't want to leave was this exposure to the moon.  It had become some kind of an important communication.  I knew that if our new place didn't face the "right" direction, my communication with the moon might be limited.

Arriving in Florida, we found a place that had a western exposure.  We enjoyed hundreds of gorgeous, colorful, and even spectacular sunsets over the four years we lived there.  But even more importantly, a month into our new life I woke in the night, bathed in moonlight.  The moon had sneaked in past our vertical blinds, bathing me in its glorious light, reminding me once more, "I'm here."

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Seeing that moon this morning took me back into my little girl eyes.  I flashbacked to a time when I could look at the moon and see this same definition and yes, wonder about it.  It had gone away over time, and I never even knew it was missing.  Having it back is simply making me giddy with delight.  Such a small thing, but it touches my heart is a sweet way.

My eye doctor has assured me that my distance vision will remain this clear the rest of my life.  And I know that I will never again have the magical experience I had today, seeing through my eyes in a new way, but in an old way, too.  This is where I give thanks for living in a time of this type of technology;  a time when a person doesn't have to just let her vision fade away, but can have it fixed in a way that the past will find itself in the present moment, looking up from the driveway to a shining ball in the sky, mysterious and mythical, this time with the promise to stay.