#10 Summer of Grief — A Tipsy Moon

It’s a full moon tonight. That must mean something — a shift maybe, or just the illusion of one. Still, I like to believe in that kind of thing. New energy. A new edge to the night.

Now it’s already 2 a.m. and I’m a little tipsy, just enough to soften the need for discipline. I thought about skipping this, the writing, the reflection, but then I wondered what would happen if I didn’t. Just wrote something, anything, to see where it would go.

Today wasn’t a day for grief. There just wasn’t space for it. Not in the room, not in me. Maybe it was the moon. Or the noise around me. Or maybe I was the noise, I don’t know. But everything felt suspended, like grief had politely stepped aside to let the day happen.

Sometimes I feel guilty when that happens, like I’m letting go of something I promised to carry. But tonight, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the moon was doing the work for me. And maybe that was enough.

I remember my father once saying that smart friends make you smarter. It’s something that stayed with me. And tonight, sitting with friends, talking about writing, books, the future, and all the small, possible versions of our lives, I felt it again.