We went in search of different things. Madeleine was looking for creatures to catch in her net, minnows or frogs or bugs or lizards. Violet, with her silent intentions, hunched over near the edge of the pond, looking for rocks or evidence of fairies. Me, in search of that deep breath that comes when I've been outside with the girls long enough, near a thing of great beauty. That breath that empties out my lungs, lets the light in.
The moon hung large on the horizon, completely full, deep yellow, looming. We stayed for a long time, and I took pictures as I waited for that breath to come. Night fell, and the moon rose high enough to reflect on the pond, shimmering through the gentle ripples of water. I tried to take a picture, but the batteries in my camera died just then. So I watched the moon's reflection and found it, that deep sighing breath, the relief of letting go.
When we left I told the girls that that had been my favorite part of the outing. That it has been so long since I saw the moon reflecting on a body of water, and it was just such a lovely sight. "Did you take a picture?" Mad asked, and I told her no. But really, in a sense, I did. I caught the feeling just the same.