The Moon Follows

Lately, I’ve been spending extra time with the night sky—partly because the crescent moon and planetary parade have been gorgeous and partly because my dog Lucy thinks 2 a.m. is adventure hour. So, there I was, staring up at the night sky (again), and there she was—the moon, staring right back. And I started thinking about how it’s always just there—watching, glowing, following.

There’s something comforting about that, isn’t there? In a world that never stops shifting—where trends fade, plans change, and life moves faster than we sometimes want—the moon stays the same. A quiet, steady presence. A constant in the chaos.

This poem is a nostalgic, quirky take on everyday life, late-night thoughts, and the little moments we don’t always notice—like whether my kid will even see the moon or just keep staring at a screen. The moon sees it all. Says nothing. Just keeps shining, like a quiet witness to all of life’s tiny absurdities.

What follows are my moonlit musing on life’s small, silly, and suspiciously profound moments—because if the moon can keep glowing through it all, so can we.

When I was little,

I thought the moon followed me home.

Hung just outside the car window,

peeking through tree branches,

floating over highways,

never too far behind.

The moon knows things.

Watches me spill coffee down my shirt at 7 a.m.,

nods like it saw that coming.

Sees me stare at the ceiling at 2:36 a.m.,

debating if I missed my true calling—

Should I have been an archaeologist?

A beekeeper?

Or at least someone who knows how to fold a fitted sheet?

The moon saw me set my alarm for 6 a.m.,

watched me hit snooze five times,

then scroll my phone for thirty minutes

like that wasn’t the plan all along.

The moon saw me aggressively whisper “thank you”

to the self-checkout machine,

because I refuse to be rude to robots.

(It’s only a matter of time, anyway.)

The moon saw me whisper “oops” to myself

when I tripped over absolutely nothing.

Saw me open my laptop with great intention,

then immediately check the weather,

like I don’t already know what season it is.

The moon has witnessed it all—

every text I typed and deleted,

every awkward wave when I thought someone was waving at me,

every time I sang the wrong lyrics to a song

and kept right on singing.

The moon watches me rehearse arguments in the shower,

perfectly phrased comebacks

for conversations that no longer need me.

It sees me laugh too loud in the car,

then immediately wonder if I’m actually funny

or just bad at silence.

And now I wonder—

when my daughter stares out the car window,

will she think the moon follows her too?

Or will she be too busy looking down

at a tiny, glowing screen,

learning from a machine

that already knows where she’s going?

The moon sees it all.

Says nothing.

Just keeps shining,

like a friend who knows too much,

but lets you pretend otherwise.

Living in Italy - One Year Later

It's hard to believe a year has passed since my family and I got off the plane that brought us to our new home. Living in Italy has been whirlwind of wonderful, crazy, confusing, frustrating, and at times very magical moments. It took us about six months to really feel settled and at home. Home...My home is in Italy... There are still moments when I pinch myself to make sure it's not a dream.There are many things I love about living here and a few I could do with out. So I of course, I made a list.Why I love Italy

1. It's Italy. Need I say more? The blessing to have this experience is one I'm not taking for granted.
2. I am surrounded by antiquity. When you stroll though towns on cobblestone roads you can't help but think about all the people that have gone before you. In short, the history.
3. I've had to put myself out there and it's totally been worth it.
4. The wine. Ohmygosh...the wine!
5. "Domani". Italians are very laid back. I love how they enjoy and appreciate living and aren't afraid to put things off till "domani" (tomorrow). They don't rush to drink that cup of coffee on the run. In fact I think they only time they do rush is when they're on the road. It's made me appreciate the simple things even more than I already did.
6. Market day. Antique Market Day. Artisan market day. Festivals. etc. etc.
7. They take serious steps to conserve and preserve. From the recycling to the infrequent use of paper cups and utensils (I've yet to see them in a cafe).
8. Scarves. One of my favorite accessories is also considered one necessary piece of clothing for Italian women. Yay!
9. Pizza with mushrooms from my favorite Pizza place = heaven.
10. I'm actually getting to use the Italian I studied: four years in high school & 3 semesters in college. Over the last year it's vastly improved.
11. Gelato. Gelato. Gelato.

What I could live with out or miss the most about the States

1. The toilets. I absolutely dislike the toilets here. They're designed in such a way that one constantly has to take a toilet brush to them if you know what I mean. Oh and then there's the squatty potty.
2. Getting used to things closing in the middle of the day for "riposo" was really challenging at first and it still can be at times.
3. The lack of big box stores like Target. Oh how I miss Target and their cute home decor items and way affordable t-shirts I also would be remiss if I didn't mention the CLEARANCE items. The Italian sense of decorating style tends to either lean toward the ultra modern or somewhere in the 70's or 80's and there is no "clearance" section. There are two major times of year when the stores have major sales. January and July.
4. I know I'm surrounded by cafes that serve excellent coffee and I am a bit of a coffee snob...Yet as much as I'm embarrassed to say it, I miss Starbucks. Sometimes you just want a cafe latte to go. NO such thing here. [Except for the coffee vending machines which, by the way, make excellent coffee. (See number 5 above).]
5. Converting the Dollar to Euro. I hate that right now we get only about $.71 to every €1,00. Needless to say, I shop online a lot.
6. Closets. I miss closets.
7. Cellular telephone service. It's "no buono".

Your life is art

I came across this post.  Had to share.

Life is short. We all say this. Made me wonder...Are you living the life you deserve?Dreamed of?Want?If any of your answers were "no".The clock waits for no one.Time wasted can not be regained.Make a plan. Set some goals.Your life is your canvas.  You are it's pen, brush, camera...Go create a masterpiece. 

Fearless -The Story of Adam Brown - Son, Husband, Father, Friend, Hero

This book was brought to my attention -it's now on my "must read" list. Had to share.Fearless is the story of Adam Brown, a man of extremes, whose courage and determination was fueled by faith, family, and the love of a woman. It’s about a man who waged a war against his own worst impulses and persevered to reach the top tier of the US military. Always the first to volunteer for the most dangerous assignments, Adam’s final act of bravery led to the ultimate sacrifice.

Horizon Dream(s) [Typography]

Photo: Taken Using a Nikon D3100 18-55 mm lens. One Sunday morning at Crandon Park, Key Biscayne, FLquote: That was me too.

Goals Unfulfilled -RemembeRED –

I knew what I wanted…I knew when I was six..I want to write. Really write. I want to be able to call myself a bona fide writer, and not feel like a complete fraud because it’s not “official”. Sure, I’ve been paid to write here and there, but it’s nothing that will make up a career. That’s what I want.

I’ve set goals, I’ve read books, I’ve got a “dream board” I stare at every day with positive affirmations and things that will help me reach those goals…reach that place in my life where that empty place in my heart sits to fill it up.

I think there must be a leak some place because over and over goals I’ve made have dripped away, evaporating into lost time.  My art teacher in elementary school, Mrs. Knowles used to say, “Time wasted can not be regained.” I can’t remember any piece of art I did back then, but she left an impression on my child-self I’m truly grateful for.

I wonder what the child me would think about the grown up person I’ve become. I think she’d be proud, but she’d wonder why I feel so scared.

“How can you be scared of doing something that makes you happy?” She’d ask, her freckled nose wrinkling up at me.

I’d shrug my shoulders at her and give her one of my well-worn excuses. Excuses are hollow empty things, yet there they are filling up all that lost time.

She’d smile her goofy-gapped tooth grin and say, “Silly, don’t you know what to do when you feel scared?”

I’d shake my head at her.

She’d roll her eyes because the answer was so simple.  “You just close your eyes and think-up good things.” Her eyes would go all soft and dreamy then. “Things like princesses, that ride on unicorns and get to eat cake and ice cream for breakfast. That’s what I do when I’m scared. I make up imaginary worlds where cool things happen.”

Duh.

When did I become so lame?

It happened when I thought about how super-awesome-amazing it would be to be that kid who’d make up stories, who turned into a grown-up who wrote stories people would read, where they’d be transported to a super-awesome-really-cool place where they’d forget themselves…and their fears, or the crappy grade they’d got on their Algebra test because of words on a page that were written by me.

 .....This post was inspired by this week's writing prompt from  Write On Edge -RemembeRED – Unfulfilled   

A sense of wonder...

Look what I did....

I used photoshop brushes I found at www.brusheezy.com to make this little number.