I will always remain hopeful, no matter what the outcome.
*
Felix pointed out the full (almost full? Waning full? Anyway, big and beautiful) moon to me several times the night before last. I was still warm after dark, following an equally lovely, balmy day where we ate dinner outside at the Emerson Grill."And there's the first star!" he exclaimed. There was brilliant Jupiter, just to the southeast and holding its own, standing out even next to the moon's wide gaze. The first star of night always reminds me of Elise, for some reason. It doesn't have to be the same star, Jupiter or Hyakutake or Krypton--I'm no astronomer. Just the first star of the evening, whenever I happen to glimpse it.
Maybe connecting Elise with this star began around 6 months after her death, when we vacationed on a Mexican Pacific beach and I held a twilight ceremony with Uncle Jeff, Auntie Sarah and Uncle Ben, her cousins in girlhood and her big brother. We gazed at a candle I lit in the middle of our circle, and for a moment she was at the center of our world. I looked up once again at these loved ones gathered--I think Susie, Skip, and Francie were there too--and saw the first star of night was shining down on us from the west, just above where we admired the spectacular sunsets from our palapa.
Back to the night before last: Felix and I went on a twilight walk after dinner--maybe subconsciously beckoned by that moon. We met some new neighbors on Brady street and found that we have a lot of friends in common. Felix showed them his new handlebar headlight. I'd bought it months ago for Dan's and my bike, but was finally getting around to installing it until Felix said he wanted it for his own. He was so fascinated by the circle of glowing white that bobbed in time to his handlebars' movements. He hadn't been riding his bike for weeks, and I had not been on a walk on a balmy night for god knows how long.
We took the night air with his miniature spotlight. It was just what I needed.
