The Afternoon Visitor

by Susan Abraham

“In a rare appointment, the full moon mounted up from nowhere to peer down at my balcony. At four in the afternoon, the skyscape still clung to a murky blue. The moon wore her anxious silver smile, lest she miss my Dublin departure and now hoped to stand precedence over my packing with expert eyes.
For months, we had shared many a romantic rendezvous in the matchmaking twilight. Would I not accept her shaky reflection as a gift? I asked if she had forgotten her recent antics up Shira Hut on the Kili’s Machame route.
Then decked in her necklaced halo, she had played hide-and-seek with the snowcap, acted the ghost with a ferocious howling wind and ballooned up to Jupiter size with monstrous ease as she teased fatigued climbers all night long. Now she stared longingly, tiny in her sadness, like a mother mute with love for a child.
Only just now, a seagull had whistled on its way but stopped subdued in mid-flight. Bashful, the bird would pay silent homage to the sentiment that quickly unfolded before my misty eyes.”

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