I didn’t know that night would be the last time I saw the moon, at least in all its glory. Had I known, maybe I would have paused to take it in a little longer, memorizing every moment. Because after that night, the moon has never looked the same.
The summer heat lingered in the night air as if it were a distant memory being called to mind. Off to the east, the mountains looked as if they were carved out to place a vast lake in the center. It was as if it were all intricately designed in a way that only my eyes could see all the beauty it held.
June’s voice broke through my train of thought. “I’m waiting for you,” he called over the field. I turned to face his direction and saw the meadow he stood in. He had the brightest smile on his face as I made my way toward him until we stood side by side at the mouth of the lake. The field engulfed us from the waist down in a sea of wildflowers. They were in various shades of pink and purple that contrasted the honey yellow of the grass that touched our knees.
The water beckoned us to come and stay awhile, to break the surface and adventure out on the placid lake. Off in the west, we watched as the mountains swallowed the sun, leaving only the moon behind. The full moon’s brilliance glistened over the lake and engraved its image on the glassy water. It was like a painting had been placed right before our eyes. Yet, it was more beautiful than one could ever create, imagine, or accurately put into words.
The lake tempted us to become a part of the artistry, so we stole a boat off the lakeside and rowed out to watch the sky go by. The water below us rippled in delicate waves until we were perfectly still in the middle of the lake. It was as if we and the boat had become one with the water below and the sky above — we had become part of the painting. I watched June in admiration as his eyes drifted in wonder at the night sky. His face was illuminated by shimmering cascades of shooting stars that sailed over the night sky. Blissfully, we gazed at the moon as it went by. We thought we had seen everything until we saw the moon shine the way it did that night.
But suddenly, I watch as you slip away. That moment is just that, a moment turned memory, never to be experienced again. My eyes are welled with tears, and the world comes flooding back to me. Through blurred vision, I see only a gray outline of a stone with your name etched into it. If only I could find beauty in such a carving…. maybe I could if it were a tree with our initials on it. Instead, I find that the only carving I find beautiful these days is the one you made on my heart before you left. The carvings you left haven’t healed just yet, I don’t know that they will.
As my heart bleeds, I hear a voice break my thoughts. Though they are next to me, a soft hand on my shoulder, I feel as if I am in another place. One where you are still here with me underneath a velvet sky in reverie. Oh, how I wish they had never spoken so I could have held onto the thought of you a bit longer. Their voice feels as if it is a distant beckoning to me, a voice tainted with ache as they speak.
“I’ll be waiting in the car for you. Take all the time you need.”
The glorious memory of you slipped away too quickly, and I am struggling to find it again. I look ahead, hoping to see you standing in a meadow, calling out to me. Instead, I am overwhelmed by a starless sky, surrounded by a lake of my tears, kneeling by a headstone that reads your name. The stars whisper the secrets I already know. They sing to me a lullaby with words my heart aches:
Where the moon once danced, darkness remains
A world without you reigns
No silver orb in the night
Just an empty canvas, devoid of light
Stars bear witness to this celestial grief
A requiem for love, a solemn motif
Abscence, absence. Adieu, adieu!
The moon is gone forever, as are you.
Ari Miranda 
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