I see the moon…

I see the moon and the moon sees me.

Yesterday was my Dad’s birthday.  (Well, and my Aunt’s…they’re twins.)  And since this was the first time I wouldn’t be there to celebrate with him, I called and expressed my regret over not being there.  It’s odd.  You go your entire life with the same routine when it comes to certain things.  You always celebrate your Dad’s birthday at his house, you always wish that Christmas was a tad bit cooler as you stand outside in a T-shirt, (thanks, SW GA), and you always forget to wear something green on St. Patrick’s Day.  It’s tradition.  Now I find myself missing out on all the usuals and attending someone else’s routine holidays instead. 

We talked for a bit about the weather, the kids and how by the time you get to be an adult, birthdays start to loose their sparkle.  I gloated about my gift selection for a bit, since it was a deviation from the usual button down shirt and/or tie that he’ll never wear.  (As a child, my sister and I gave my Dad ties at almost every holiday and now that I think back on it…I rarely saw him wear a tie.  Oops.) 

We wrapped up the conversation with tentative plans to see each other “soon.”  However, five minutes later, he was calling me back to ask me if I’d seen the moon lately.  My dad loves nothing more than to see a full moon low in the sky and a brilliant sunset in the evening.  As kids, we would sit in folding chairs in the middle of the back yard to watch just such scenes.  Of course I’d seen the moon.  It was awesome, especially here in Oklahoma with the flat, unobscured horizon.  It makes me intensely happy that he still calls me to point out a full moon or amazing sunset.  For a few minutes I feel like I’m a knobby-kneed kid again, sitting in a yard full of grass burs and pecan trees…and the occasional mosquito. 

And this morning the full moon was waiting on me.  So, this is for you Dad.  Happy Birthday.