I don’t know if it was the tall buildings or maybe I just didn’t look up when I walked; I didn’t notice a full moon in Brooklyn. I remember the moon chasing me on car trips from New Jersey to home. I remember it chasing me. But the moon never caught up. Not until I moved to California. Here I notice the different shapes of the moon. I see the beauty, the stillness. I await its fullness.
I rode the bus this morning with my neighbor. We talked about visitors from NY. He thought California must be such a culture shock for New Yorkers. So much going on there. Constantly. Then there are moments that it feels like a prison. I’ve never been in a prison but I know what it feels like to be trapped. When I was a kid I felt trapped in Brooklyn. In my neighborhood and inside a city that sometimes felt like a small town. There was too much prejudice for me to handle as a kid. Prejudice coming from everybody against everybody. My friend says NY is very tribal. There have been wars.
I used to want to exchange where I was born for somewhere else, like Cuba. So many people thought I was born there anyway. I don’t feel like that anymore. Maybe it’s because I am getting older, maybe it’s because we have a new president, maybe it’s just because I have a greater understanding of life. Every moment has enriched me. It has not burdened me. Like the moon my thoughts, my heartbeat, my emotions change. I am still the same just everything comes in and out, expands, gets smaller, is almost hidden, is fully exposed.
La luna me llena.