Wish Upon a Blood Moon

I had already decided that I wasn't going to photograph last night's lunar eclipse.

I just wanted to enjoy it. And who knows if I were to see anything, anyway.

So as I went to bed, I told my internal clock to wake me at 3:30 am so I could poke my head outside. It was closer to 4 when I opened my eyes. At first I wasn't sure why. Then I remembered.

The blood moon.

Theresa woke up too. She looked at me inquisitively.

"The eclipse," I whispered. "Come see it with me."

I put a blanket around her shoulders and we ventured out back. There it was, hanging in the west. Beautiful.

The air was clean, revealing a sky filled with jewels. The veiled moon dimming her beacon, allowing the stars to cast their light. 

We stood silently.

At 4 am that morning, I loved my life, my family, and the creator of such magnificent moments. The experience lasted only minutes. I'll remember them forever.

I was half naked. Cold was setting in. We shuffled back inside and upstairs to the warm bed. Heaven.

Normally, I would have cast a wish up that blood moon. But not that night. Because, as I stood there, eyes upward into the sky, I knew that I had everything

that meant anything

to me.