When you are hosted in another country by a friend and grief seizes your heart, you have to bury it. At least, that's how I felt. These waves of grief are not as high or as sweeping as they once were, but I am still pulled in to warm tides of sadness. I couldn't very well bow out of the night's events. But the moon and a single star (probably a planet, maybe Venus?) greeted my eyes. And I remember staring at the first full moon after Caitlin died, and I remembered the crescent moon in the early evening sky when I discovered baby Dorothy's grave at the cemetery, and, well, I have no deep message, other than to note that the moon smiled at me and I was grateful for it's beauty. I thought of Caitlin and I took a picture--the one you see above.
I am so tired. I'm OK. But, I'm tired.
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