Walking the moon road

moon over water
The low chime of the grandfather clock in the hall reminds me that I’m not asleep. And again an hour later. If I listen, I can hear the shush and pull of the ocean. The moon sea-rises here, casting a glamoured road across the water. On nights like these, when I can’t sleep, I creep to the balcony window. And I imagine I am stolen by water fae. Thieved out the window and down the hill to the beach, and given rights to walk the moon road. To skip on fairy feet along the glittering until I reach where the mer-people hold their counsel. I long for the thieving. Keen for it. I wish with every piece of my 8 year old heart. Because I know, I know, that there is so little magic to be had. So little grace and wonder. Less so as 8 becomes older. And the deep belief of childhood leaks away. So I hope and hope and hope that the magic steals me before it is completely gone.

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19 comments

  1. Very nice piece. Short, yes so engaging and leaves no ambiguity around its theme or the intentions.

    But it also sounds like a very serious 8 year old!

    1. Thanks James 🙂 And I was a very serious 8 year old. And I distinctly remember hoping the fairies took me before I was too old to remember them.

  2. I was watching my 8-year old and her little sister playing in the garden yesterday, picking flowers and making crowns and bracelets and what have you. I was smiling until this dreaded feeling came over me that soon all of that magic will be gone. It breaks my heart. It really does.

    Lovely piece, Dolce. Thank you.

  3. Ramona, if it’s any consolation, I still make bracelets out of flowers.

  4. Fuck babe. You always knew how to tug at my heart strings. I see nothings changed.

    1. Mands. It’s sentimental schmaltz. You know I can do better. But thank you.

  5. the problem is the whole growing up thing. it kind of fucks you in the face.

    1. trishennT · · Reply

      Dex!!!

    2. Jeez, Dex. I donno whether to slap you in the kisser or hug the bejaysus out of you. *lick*

  6. There. What Dex said. ‘Ek drink sommer brandy en Coke.”

  7. Jesus Dex. Like WTF?

  8. (And yes I know you’re only here for Ramon.)

    1. well, duh.
      what can i say. i miss the feeling of his balls slapping my chin. mmm good.

  9. The longing for the thieving never disappears… only the dream-face of our rescuers. Aaah Dolly, you can still weave those images from sighs.

    1. Sweet Jeebers my Morilicious beastlet. It’s good to see your handle of loveliness. I meeeeeesed you.

      1. Ag. I’ve been under more than around… digging under the surface of things as usual – like a mad
        old tart in the village cemetary.

        1. love that image. I can just see you. Digging and muttering to yourself.

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