Walking on the Moon

I promised myself I wasn't going to skip another morning training walk. I needed it, Lola needed it. When the alarm went off I sat and bed and envisioned Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off - I'll go I'll go I'll go I'll go I'll go. So I went. I used to love this time. It's my me time and everything is so quiet. But this morning, pounding away down the middle of Ansley street because I'd grown weary of clearing the sidewalk of cobwebs with my face, I was thinking how I would rather be at the gym. Or maybe in bed. I walked faster, thinking ahead to all the things I needed to get done today, trying to get the walk behind me.

I noticed as I approached College on MacDonough that leaving 20 minutes later than I'd planned really cut into the distance I could go so I decided that instead of walking to the square I'd go down College. I turned north on College and immediately I saw it. The moon, so huge, nearly full, the color of old parchment paper and bright enough to light up downtown Atlanta; it was magically suspended mere inches above the road just ahead. "Oh wow" I involuntarily breathed aloud.

As I moved down College, it sat, nearly kissing the earth just at the top of the hill, waiting for me to walk right up to it and climb on. It was mesmerizing. I've seen some good moons in my time but this one took the cake. Or the cheese, I suppose. The sight of it transformed the whole city and I wondered if I'd accidentally wandered onto the set of a musical. Suddenly I noticed the cool, damp air was imbued with the scent of honeysuckle and the old-timey street lamps of Agnes Scott and the railroad tracks framed the moon romantically. As I ascended the hill and was just about to reach out and touch the moon, Lola tugged on her leash and unceremoniously pooped in an especially tall clump of mondo grass.

Sighing as I unfurled a doggy poop bag from the little red fire hydrant attached to Lola's leash, I did my best to commit to memory the look and feel of everything around me. I thought, maybe if I can seal this in my brain, when I am very, very old and can no longer take walks like this, my brain will let me see it again. And I will get to the part of the memory where I am picking up steaming poop from pointy grass and I will think "Well hell, I don't miss that" and slip happily back into a geriatric stupor.

As I turned down Feld to head home and the moon slipped out of my view, I felt my old joy as I walked and I hummed along with Sting signing in my head "...some may say, I'm wishing my days away. No way...I might as well play..."