Tossing and turning, covering then uncovering herself… When will the night end? But the night outside could never have wrought more torment than the night within. A short wind rattled the latch on her window, but the atmosphere around her remained defiantly still.
A dog wailed and she gave up. She got out of the covers and placed her feet on the muddied bedside rug. The canine had enjoyed liberties in the house more than she would ordinarily approve, but today she didn’t care. She switched on the bedside lamp and drew the curtain. It was a full moon – a nice round full moon, boasting its presence as a peacock would in a mating dance. How could something so luminous and prominent hinge so much mystery and haunting? It was just as it was that night – a long night with a full a moon whose light, regardless, remained unfathomably obscure.
She clasped her face and wept. It was seventeen years since he had passed away – a boy, her baby boy – her only child. Heaven knows she tried to get another; to will back the enthusiasms of a dutiful wife; to place herself beside her husband in bed and, closing her eyes, allow what was due him. But Robert didn’t want it either. Not that way. And so he left.
Seventeen years to date, and every year around this time the full moon still wound her back where it all began.