there is a fine line between always striving to improve oneself and always being disappointed with oneself. a fine line between living cautiously and living fearfully. i stumble on these lines, generally tending to walk on the less pleasant side.
when the boy asks "moon?" on cloudy nights, i tell him she's hiding behind the clouds. tonight he finally got a glimpse of what i've been trying to relay in words. we watched the skies outside tonight, and he was delighted, as usual, to see and talk about the moon. clouds moved in, obscuring the moon from time to time, and i explained to him what was happening. he fell silent and watched it all.
A lark constellation hangs in the night sky, beating its wings as it lifts off the ground. Everything I love, this whole earth, is under the lark.
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