Midnight Milk

I woke up to the mid-season stomach grumbles. It was 2:30 am and I wandered into the kitchen, looked into the fridge and poured a glass of milk.  Into a pan and onto the stove. I like my milk warm. 

I sat at the table and waited for my milk, cool air coming through our single pane glass. 

Waiting moments are some of my favourite moments, especially in the middle of the night.  Nothing to do, nothing to say, not even much to think. Just a moment, a moment in the middle of the night with the moon and my milk. 

5 hours later I looked up beyond the trees. From 50 strokes into the lake, I saw the moon, still shining, this time in the middle of a bright blue sky.  I leaned back into the water and reflected on that moon moment, and the other only moments before.

He’s still here, there.


I turned to my friend and pointed.  “Moon.”


“Beautiful” he replied.


We caught our breath and listened for the next whistle. “50 strokes hard to shore.”


Morning, evening, sleeping, swimming, the moon is here, there.


Thank you for the moment.  Thank you for being here, and there.


Rest well.