The phases of the moon, each iteration of the shadows and light, standing alone in a cycle, are a reference point in my life at so many different stages of my time on earth. Our time on earth is scattered from place to place and we are a small chapter on the scale. The moon is ever consistent in its timeless place in the sky, yet inconsistent in its shape and form. The moon’s example of how to be singular in being yet plural in appearance is reassuring in discovery of truth and personhood. I shared a love affair with the moon status and changes with someone. We were drawn to look up at the ebb and flow of the glowing orb each night. A shift in the sky we both understood personally and mutually down on earth. When we weren’t together we would often send one another pictures from our given location for comparison. The correspondence wasn’t empirical but stood for emotional unity during physical separation. We stood in solidarity that the moon was still overhead for both of us, and we were still in the same world together and apart. When I look up I find solace, someone else sees the same shaped moon differently.