This didn’t happen last night.
This happened an hour ago.
On a Monday.
Because apparently, the laws of physics take Mondays off too.
Let me explain.
Act I: Volleyball & the Unexpected Detour
It started with a 6:20 p.m. volleyball game, your standard Monday night match.
Good energy, good people, and the kind of focus that makes the world feel just a little quieter.
Now, normally I don’t lift on VB days. I like my joints where they are.
But I sent a text to Trent:
“Lift at 8?”
He agreed, then promptly took the kind of nap that can only be described as spiritually restorative.
We didn’t start until 8:40 p.m.
Now for context: we’re PM Warriors. We hit the gym in the early evenings, 6 to 7 p.m. is our sweet spot. Consistent. Disciplined. Predictable.
But Monday?
Monday had other plans.
Act II: Streetlights Out, Moonlight On
I got home at 10:10 p.m.
Walking up to my building, I noticed something strange.
The streetlights?
Out.
Not flickering. Not one or two.
The entire block. Blacked out.
And in that deep silence, the moon stepped in.
She showed up.
She was glowing, orange, low, full of purpose, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment to shine.
Like she had dressed up for a solo performance and someone finally pulled the curtain.
And it wasn’t just my street.
It was the entire square block.
No power, no noise, no light.
Just her.
Act III: The Orb That Defied Science
According to science (hi NASA), the moon moves about 0.5 degrees east per hour.
Deliberate. Predictable. Professional.
But tonight? She was moving like she had dinner plans.
But tonight?
The moon said, “I run this show now.”
After a quick shower and talking with my dear friend Sam, I looked outside, lights were off still, so I stepped back outside to take more photos.
In the 30 seconds it took on the elevator, here is what I found:
- The streetlights were back on.
- The moon had moved. A lot.
- And not just that, it had changed color.
- Gone was the golden glow.
- Now it was crisp. White. Sharp.
- Like someone switched out the filter.
And within moments?
Like the moon gave a little nod and said, “Okay. That’s enough. Let there be streetlight.”
Moon as Mirror: A Quiet Kind of Love
There’s this story I once heard. That the Moon doesn’t shine on her own.
The light we see?
It’s borrowed. A gift. A reflection of the Sun, passed gently across space, softened by distance and care.
He gives his light freely.
And she doesn’t try to own it.
Instead, she reflects it back, not for herself, but for everyone else wandering through the dark.
“He gave her his light. And she gave it back to the world.”
And maybe that’s what I witnessed tonight.
A blackout.
A quiet glow.
A fleeting glimpse of a love story written in orbits and shadows.
Conclusion:
- I played volleyball. ✅
- I made a spontaneous choice to lift late. ✅
- The block blacked out. ✅
- The moon breaking all known laws of motion, color, and modesty? ✅✅✅
I have photos.
I am deeply suspicious.
TO WHOEVER'S BEHIND THE CURTAIN, I SAW THAT.
And to the moon?
Put your orb away, babe. I’ve got questions.
