La Luna

Waiting at the busy Jewel Avenue bus-stop, hoping to grab a gypsy cab to take me nowhere faster, the little latina girl clung to the back of her mama’s legs.. I thought she was shy but turns out she was being coy only for la luna..

The sky — cobalt blue; the time — transitory, not quite dusk, not yet dark.. just then, the little girl emerged from behind her mama’s pant legs and screamed, “Where’s my moon, where’s my moon?” Waving her arms, laughing, doing a little hop.. “Where’s my moooon?”

Mama tried to calm her down.. “Tranquillo, Ava, tranquillo..” Then mama shrugged her shoulders and shook her head with a smile of adoration. “Where’s my moon? Where’s my moooooon?” the little girl demanded.

Just then, I saw her, as if it were the very first time.. La Luna, white and glowing in her radiant splendor, appeared fully from behind a cloud.. “There’s my moon.. There’s my moon..,” the little girl shrieked with delight.

Gypsy cab came and went. Bus arrived and I got on, looking through the window to the dark sky to the bright glowing lady of love called La Luna.. noting her chisseled face.. and finally, seeing my own reflection of brightness in La Luna..