Moonrise
2004-01-26,

Last night I reminded myself that I no longer wish to believe in destiny. I am disinclined to acknowledge what one might consider a portent. I am all out of magic.

Recently I�ve had an image resurface in my mind, an image that is drawn forever on my soul, of a night the August before last when a half moon rose silently, majestically over hill and lake, and the loons called out to it while shooting stars streaked like white scratches across the sky. It was a night of magic, and I wished upon it, one last desire. The stars had brought me my Other, and so the Moon would bring me my Dark-Haired Little Girl. But the Moon did not answer. Or rather, it gave me that answer I did not want to hear: No. Resounding, No. Never have I felt so much pain from so small a word.

Maybe it�s part of What�s Meant To Be. Maybe one real wish is all I will get. My first wish manifested in a way I didn�t expect, so it�s possible that this one will do likewise. But I�m not banking on it. I�m all out of magic. In its place is an ache that may never dull, and one that I will never shake off completely; an inevitable, forever No.

No.

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