It wasn’t that you are unable to imagine the moon, larger than I have ever known it to be, red, full and rising outside my window; it is rather that I am unable to bring to you. I tried. I took a photo with my iPhone, the one you see here. I even went outside to be closer to the moon. No matter where I went, it appeared in my screen as a tiny red dot.
It is important for me to bring the moon to you. And I know you wanted to see it but you couldn’t see beyond the clouds that covered the sky, the clouds on which the lights of the city reflect.
When a moon like this appears, I think of all those I want to share it with, and I think of you.
I don’t think you’d sit there and stare at it for more than a minute or two. I think you would let it fill you with life, with a joy that comes only from nature. And watching that would awaken me, watching how close you travel to the moon and how no photo can ever capture the expression of it filling you with radiance.
A Life of Wonder 
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