every moon holds a memory

The sound of steps against a dusty forest trail sharing thoughts and worries with dad; crickets beginning their concert timidly like the first chords of a grand orchestra. A windy day in the mountains, hair and mind both a mess; a plane crossing the sky far away while wondering where I am.

The first blossom trees near a smoky road, the never-ending questions that I never ever want to end. The exact moment before an important call, a muttery voice murmuring ‘if you’re busy I can call later’.

A clear sky in Norway, the feeling of floating in a dream, why do I deserve this. Tires screeching on a small town road, four careless friends running toward the sunflowers, shirts off, laughter echoing down the valley.

Every moon holds a memory.