Talk of the "Super Moon" was everywhere. Wherever I turned. Television. Newspapers. My local grocery store. I was almost giddy with anticipation. I love a full moon. Every full moon. Rising out of the eastern sky. Clouds scudding across its face. Illuminating the bare branches of the trees as it looms above them. Dominating the night sky.
And that's just an ordinary full moon. This . . . this would be a super moon. Not to be missed. A sight so impressive would not appear for another nineteen years. I could already hear the werewolves howling in the distance. I was ready.
It was cold. And I had forgotten my gloves. Nevertheless, I stood on the edge of the waterfront park and I waited. And shivered. And wondered just how it would appear.
Perhaps it would look like this.
Or like this.
Or maybe like this.
The clouds above the horizon began to glow. It was coming. Then, the clouds parted and suddenly, there it was.
I'd like to say that my little handheld point-and-shoot camera didn't do it justice. But no. This is an accurate representation. This was a "Super Moon"?
I went home and poured myself a glass of wine.
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