Moonbath

It was like a dream, so much so that I can’t say for certain that it wasn’t. But if it was, it was more real than the pen in my hand and the paper upon which I write the memory of the most wondrous moment of my life. Who is to say it did not happen? Upon hearing it, you will want it to be so. And in the wanting, we make it so…no?

I slept fitfully that night; nothing unusual. I often do. I thought I heard whispering in the garden beneath my window. I crept from my bed and peered into the moonlit darkness below. My eyes widened in surprise at what I saw: Thousands of flickering lights falling from the sky, dancing around the garden, making a soft whispering sound as of butterfly wings fluttering in the summer wind. It was enchanting. I had to touch them.

I ran quietly from my room, down the stairs to the back door, I reached up to unlock it. It creaked. I paused, but heard no movement in the house. I squeezed through a crack in the door and ran into the garden. It was music that sang to my eyes, caressed my skin like a warm bath, filled me with a joy I had never felt. I removed my nightgown, warmed by the dancing light and took a moonbath.