I went in search of the moon last night after a well timed text from a friend declaring that I must find the moon. I sallied forth sans interest in anything but the discovery of the moon. As soon as I stepped from my dorm, I looked up trying to find her glowing presence. I found her. Her glow brightly shown through the full green trees and so I walked towards her.
When I could look at the moon face to face, I perched upon a rock. As I sat upon the rock, there was a scuttle of movement across the road. My eyes sought the noise and I saw a raccoon fearfully looking in my direction. I couldn't help myself. I hissed at the creature and it looked as though it was ready to be hit.
This moment of quiet, I could have stayed within it forever. I felt at home within myself and the cool of the night. As I stared at the moon, I could think of the problems and frustrations that seemed to be at my every side. All was well at that rock facing the moon.
My moment was interrupted by the purr of an engine. I felt my muscles tighten because cars driving by usually means stares. I'm not a fan of being the object of a stare. I hoped the car would pass, but instead, I heard a masculine voice asking me about a pool. If you know my college, you would know that we do not have a pool. It was a ridiculous question made by a ridiculous senior who was out and about around midnight. I tersely replied 'no' to all his questions of a pool. Finally, the car pulled away with his lingering whiney and jokey voice.
As I tried to return to my thoughts, I settled down within myself and my surroundings. Before I was completely comfortable, I heard another car. I hoped that the first car was just an abnormality. Again, my muscles tensed. Abruptly, the noise of barking exploded from the car's open window. I jumped and turned to see an athlete's head stuck out the window. I laughed at myself and growled to myself about these strange boys that go to my school.
I would like to state that the raccoon was much more frightened than I was by the barking and he had scurried up a tall tree with no intention of coming down again.
When I left high school, I had hoped that I would enter an atmosphere of much more maturity. I forgot that high school boys go to college as well and they bring their immaturity with them. Disappointment seems to be a familiar drink to me. Perhaps, I expect too much.
