I saw the crescent moon again tonight.
A thin curve of golden light hung in the sky, pale and beautiful, yet carrying a chill that seemed to reach straight into my bones.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen a moon like this.
And yet, somehow, it has never looked the same.
Every time I see it, I’m in a different place in my life. I’m carrying different thoughts, different feelings, different memories.
I sat down quietly and looked up at the sky.
For a while, I said nothing.
Then, one memory after another came rushing back.
The moon had been there through so many moments of my life.
Again and again, I had seen that same thin crescent hanging over the quiet night sky, as if it had been watching everything from above.
Maybe that was why I could never look at it without remembering the past.
All it took was one glance.
A single crescent moon could open the door to memories I had long tried to leave behind.
It reminded me of a gentle evening breeze.
The kind of breeze that quietly passes through a garden and stirs a flower just as it is about to fall asleep.
Soft.
Warm.
And completely unexpected.
Before I knew it, all the memories I had buried deep inside came drifting back to me.