Out the south window of my living room, I see it: over half a moon on its way down but still quite high, a pale white disk that looks almost transparent. The bright blue of the sky does it good, reminding me that there’s a little night in the day (as well as day in the night).
This day ahead is going to be uber-full: I meet Natalie and some of the members of her jazz vocal ensemble for sushi, go with them to the Jewish center for their master class with Kelley Hunt (mostly so I can put away all the food I’m hauling for their dinner later on), run errands while they do a sound check, hang with them and other friends and family while Kelley performs with her band in downtown Lawrence, go back to the center to serve the ensemble a quick dinner, then it’s concert time before a reception that also celebrates Forest’s 17th birthday. After that, we host 10 people at our house and our mother-in-law’s, so there will be a lot of, “And here’s where you sleep. You okay with being outside in 48 degrees?”
There won’t be much time for looking at the sky quietly or slow transitions, at least not until the moon has rolled under the earth and back up the other side. The crystal blue of this gorgeous day reminds me of all the music, love and community to come. The moon shows me how the quieter rhythms will come too, sometimes in surprising moments of laughter and songs. I tell myself to pay attention, even if it’s just to pause when stepping out of the car, look at the sky, and give gratitude for all I’ve been given.