In the quiet darkness of her backyard, Annemarie sat in wonder, gazing at the brilliance of a full moon.  A “super moon” technically, though she couldn’t remember at the moment what its special name was tonight...  Harvest moon? Hunters moon?  It didn’t matter.  The beauty was positively hypnotizing as the moon dazzled like a jewel, with twinkling stars sprinkled all around it in the perfect, clear night sky.  Its glow illuminated the woods with gentle moonbeams filtering down between the trees.

She sipped on hot tea, the steam visible in the chill of night air, fragrant with the scent of spices and honey, and told herself she would not let this moment be ruined.  She would fight the urge to be reminded of him.  As she stared at up at the moon, trying to think of a thousand different things, ANY thing, the familiar phrase they had once shared would not leave her mind...  It lingered, haunted, taunted, until she surrendered to it and decided to try flowing with it instead of fighting it.

 She remembered the words of a trusted friend... “You’ve got to feel the emotions, feel them, then release them.  You can’t bury them deeper Ann, it will only prolong the healing journey.  Feel them and release them.” 

Staring intently at the supermoon, she let the words escape from her lips, barely a whisper.  “Wherever you are, wherever I am, we’re both looking at the same moon.”

Memories flashed through her mind like a whirlwind.  Nights spent on the back porch together, promises made between sips of wine, beneath starlit skies and glowing moon. She could still see him sitting there, smoking a cigarette as he looked up at the sky and told her everything he knew about the stars and space. An interest they shared which made nights like this so special.  She’d listen quietly, smiling contentedly, heart full of joy to be in his calm, peaceful presence.  Those were her most cherished moments, when he was in a good mood, sharing thoughts with her, engaging with her to reveal the side of himself that was so loving, warm and intriguing.

It was easy to remember the sweet moments, but riding this feeling out meant facing it with reality, for if everything had been so sweet, he’d be here.  If all those starlight promises had been real, this healing journey to repair a shattered heart would not be necessary.

“Wherever you are, wherever I am, we’re both looking at the same moon.”

She grounded herself first in reality.  “I’m here at home, safe...  I’m loved, healthy, strong...   I’m intelligent, kind, successful, worthy of happiness...  I am enough.”  Pausing for a moment, she realized the words had slowly, over time, become her truth.  She could finally say them with conviction, her voice no longer trembling to speak kindly of herself.

“I’m a beautiful person on the inside and I am enough.”  She whispered the affirmations slowly and deliberately as she folded her arms in a gesture intended for warmth, though it looked like a self-comforting embrace.

“Wherever you are, wherever I am, we’re both looking at the same moon.”

She knew nothing about his current life and wanted it that way.  The part she learned of, quite by accident soon after the breakup, was more than enough information, details she wished she’d never known.   He’d moved on as if she never existed, replaced in the blink of an eye, several times over.

Did he look deeply into their eyes as well, with loving words like “My Wife,” “My Soulmate,” “My Angel”, “My Woman”?  “Baby, you know I love you...  You’re the best woman I’ve ever had in my whole life...”  She could still hear his voice, picture his face as he spoke those loving words, but instead of the memory warming her heart, the words hit like a searing smack on the face.  There were times she’d hoped he would slip-up one day, calling a new lover “Annemarie” in a moment of heated passion.  “My Annemarie” he used to say...  “My angel...  My Annemarie.”

But she knew him, the person, the ego, the charm. She knew his ways, his behaviors, his moods...  Oh, she could read his mood by the energy surrounding him before he even walked two steps in the front door.  If he’d ever slip-up after their 5 years together and call a new woman by her name, he’d simply brush it off with a smirk, twist words, play victim or pretend it never happened at all, with a quick change-up from “you’re too sensitive, it’s not even that big of a deal” to “I never said that, you’re always trying to start fights and be dramatic.” She had to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, knowing somewhere a new supply was either being love-bombed to the point of believing he would someday marry her or devalued and wondering why they were even together if he despised her so completely.

Knowing who he was, so long as she didn’t romanticize it, was key to riding this feeling out and seeing it through...  She had to try.

“Feel the emotions and release them. You can’t bury them deeper, Ann, it will only prolong the healing journey.  Feel them and release them.”  The words of her dear friend echoed in her mind as she gazed at the moon’s radiant beauty, searching for her courage to push past the moment of pain.

She had to face the thought of him as the REAL him, the everyday him.  Not the man in a love-bombing phase or breadcrumbing cycle, but the actual, raw, every day, ordinary man as he was – without her rose-colored glasses of love and adoration, patience and endless forgiveness.

“Wherever you are, wherever I am, we’re both looking at the same moon.”

Wherever he was, whether single and alone or involved with another, she pictured him seated outdoors.  He was at a patio table.  There was a single candle lit.  His half-smoked box of cigarettes lay on the table in front of him, lighter beside it...  the lighter was probably black, maybe blue.  His pipe and small container of weed would be somewhere next to the lighter, as he’d go back and forth from smoking one thing to another.

He'd pull the ashtray, already overflowing with cigarette butts, from the center of the table, closer to him...  Looking up at the moon for a moment, he’d take a long drag of the menthol smoke, a scowl on his face as he thought of whatever random annoyances crossed his mind.  He was not one for quiet reflection, and if his mind began to take him there against his will, he’d quickly dull it with weed, getting high and then higher – as many times as was needed to push away whatever annoyances, secrets or dark feelings haunted him.

She could picture him clearly.  Yes, he was quite possibly sitting outside somewhere on this beautiful evening, looking at the same moon.  And he was likely crushing out a cigarette roughly, trying to squeeze one more butt into the overflowing ashtray, oblivious that dirty ashes and three old butts fell out onto the table in the process.  He took a gulp of a drink, likely water but maybe beer, looked up at the moon again, then distracted, grabbed the weed container to pack his pipe and light up. Maybe the moon brought back memories for him too...  Maybe memories of Annemarie or perhaps one of the women he’d been with before or after her.  He scowled again, shook his head as he often did when annoyed or impatient, finished packing his pipe then grabbed the lighter.  Cool moon tonight, he’d think, as he took that first deep inhale and let the feeling begin to wash over him while gazing at the supermoon above.

“Wherever you are, wherever I am, we’re both looking at the same moon.”

Annemarie released the grip of her crossed arms that had been clutching herself tightly and sighed deeply.  She took a sip of her warm tea.  There were no tears this time, she realized.  Rumination had tried to wash over her like a rogue wave, but she stayed on top of it, rode it out...  Allowed herself to feel and face the emotion, then release it.

Wherever he is, he’s still the same man.  Whomever he’s with, if anyone, they will receive the same confusing treatment, just as those who came before her.

“Maybe we’re both looking at the same moon tonight” she whispered, “but so are a lot of other people in this world.”

Annemarie finished her tea and sat in silence, basking in the glow of moonlight.  It was interesting, she thought, how a simple shift in perspective could bring a strange sense of clarity and comfort.  He was far from the only person in existence to take notice of a beautiful full moon.  Her universe no longer revolved around him, and he was not the only man in this world.

Gazing at the night sky in peaceful solitude, she thought about her life and what an amazing gift it was to be enjoying this beautiful moment.  The warmth of gratitude came over her, quite unexpectedly.  How was it possible she’d come so far and learned so much, never realizing the entire time she’d been on a profound, life-changing journey of healing, growth and learning to love herself?  She smiled as hope began to fill her heart, seeping into the cracks, further renewing and restoring what had once been badly broken.

 Annemarie noticed a bright star shimmering above the treetops, and she pondered the idea of making a wish.

Perhaps there was someone in the world right now, staring up at the sky with wonder in his gentle eyes and cautious hope in his heart. Maybe he knew what it felt like to make a lonely wish upon a star, to dream of finding safe, loyal connection and reciprocated love in a world full of shallow opportunists and fake soulmates.  A kind, faithful man, he wouldn’t view love as a game where he was the master player seeking only to win or destroy.  He’d see love as a sacred gift to be cherished as one of the greatest blessings in this lifetime.

Annemarie wished for this honest man’s existence.

She wished for a chance to find him and use all the lessons learned in her season of healing to start a joyous new chapter in her life.  For the first time, the idea of loving again entered her carefully guarded heart. For the first time in a very long while, she dared to dream.

“If you exist, maybe we’re both wishing on the same star tonight...”