When I was young, my mother would pull us out of bed, 2 AM sometimes, in the chilly darkness. She would slip into our room with an excited whisper and gently shake us awake “Come see the moon! It’s so beautiful!” We’d race down the stairs and out onto the deck, sometimes stopping for a jacket and boots. We’d stand under the light of the full moon for a moment, listening to my mom talk about why it was so big and full that night.
I wrote a piece about wonder, to read the rest of it go check it out here
chasing wonder, living slowly 