Sun v. Moon

I’m not sure what it is about the Sun, but he just gets on my nerves. I don’t particularly dislike the light it gives, or the heat it gives, but just think this through with me.

In the summer when you have nothing to do, because everyone is “off school” (whatever that means) and you think to yourself, Hey, why don’t I go outside?, and who’s there to ruin the fun?

Glaring down at you like a big angry father, the Sun looks at you like Sauron, burning into your brain, through your eyes, the single question, What do you think your doing!?! (Must read with really “scary” whispery voice.)

You step out, despite his obvious order to stay in doors, and he starts beating you. The steady ninety-five degree wether is cooking you, sweat soaks your shirt, you can hear your pale skin sizzling in the sun. (Unless you don’t burn, in that case you can see yourself darkening into a nice tan, very disconcerting, eh?) You forge onward in this, a battle of obedience to the parental figure of the Sun.

The Sun is now furious and slowly (and I mean slooooooooooooooooooowly) hides behind a cloud, and then quickly positions himself in a position to cause the most heat. In a punishment for being outside against orders, you are now roasting. You pick up a basketball, and try to dribble on your blacktop driveway, and suddenly your feet are burning off.  Again the lovely, painful, un-comforting, irritating Sun.

Now he forcefully orders you to stand in the shade, and you obey, totally exhausted by the heat. The Sun tyrannically dictates your day.

You then go inside, defeated, and depressed. You sit on your couch, and wait for fall, football, and hockey.

It’s now fall, you’re standing at your front door, hot apple cider in hand. The Moon is out in the clear, dark blue sky, and she’s shining softly down through the leafless branches. You find yourself out of the micromanaging rays of the Sun,  you slip into a warm, woolly sweatshirt, and embark on a night’s walk.

The sidewalks are swept clean by the wind, but the yards are full of brown and orange leaves that are ensnared in the grass. Nary a street light to be seen, as you walk the back roads. You talk to the Moon, confessing doubts and concerns, all the while  enjoying the cool night  breeze whisking around your Levi-clad legs, and briskly brushing your face. You sip your warm, cinnamony apple cider, and exhale a cloud of steam

The scene is so much colder due to the soft blue glow of the Moon. Without her, the steam of your drink would go unnoticed, the nice white sidewalk unseen, and the beautiful bald trees wouldn’t be able to cast their night shadows. She listens to your confessions and her silence reveals the answers to your problems, qualms, downfalls. You swear she could solve world peace with her calm reflective answers.

Rejuvenated you pitch the Moon some of your solutions. Ideas you’d never share with anyone, but on the cold windy night, you share with a soulmate like no other.

Again silence is the answer, but as you stare at her white face, you realize that she’s watching you all the time. It’s just that sometimes she disappears. How cool is that? you think. I have a friend that disappears!

But more than anything, you realize that you have a friend.

A friend to share a nice, cool, crisp, hot apple cidery night with.