2 days ago
I SEE THE MOON...&
THE MOON SEES ME
An evening of failed attempts at shooting worthwhile sunset/dusk images had me somewhat frustrated and decidedly ready to pack it in to head home. However, I accepted a pressing phone call just as I began re-casing my gear. While on the phone, I sat in the driver’s seat of my truck and watched daytime wrap up its shift and surrender the watch over to the wary care of night. To seemingly crown the occasion, the moon rose without delay to become the uncontested jewel of the night.
I M A G E T I T L E
“I see the moon, & the moon sees me.”
Not knowing the ultimate origin of this simple children’s rhyme, I document herein what I‘ve heard from first-hand accounting.
One of Emily’s most cherished memories is one from way, way back to her earliest recollection. Her Grandfather would hold her in his big, strong arms while standing on the front porch of his humble home, located in the heart of Cushing, Oklahoma. She was just a little-bitty thing. Yet, the memory of his weathered hands on her soft skin is etched in her mind and emotions, as if it were just days ago. She recalls him gently bouncing to the rhythm of his words as they stared at the bright-shining moon and together said,
“I see the moon, and the moon sees me. God made the moon, and God made me.”
As I do before publicly posting any photograph, I asked my wife to review the colors and to tell me if the image is what we call “post-worthy”. She confirmed the colors, and began to whisper something to herself. “Huh? What are you saying to yourself babe?” I inquired of her. She replied, “oh it’s just something my Grandpa used to say when I was a little girl. It’s nothing.”
I reached out and touched her on the forearm. She looked up at me. “Please...”, I sincerely requested, “...tell me about it.”