When I'm writing, there sometimes comes a dilemma that hinders my progress. When something awesome happens, when I find myself truly amazed, just how descriptive I should actually be gets a little murky. Too much and it gets cheesy, or worse, boring. Not enough and i will fail to properly tell the story I am trying so hard to convey. Tonight's story, however, can only be told one way, just like it happened.
Courtney and I stole a moment for ourselves on the deck while Sevyn ate dinner. She's been teething lately, so tonight when she showed genuine interest in her food we opened the door and disappeared so she could focus. Normally, while outside, we just stand there and zone out while watching the waves. But I happened to look behind us, over the hills, and had to ask Courtney very politely, "What the eff is that?" She looked too. On the top of the hill that separates Pacifica from San Francisco is a small forest. In that forest was the most brilliantly dazzling light. I thought it was a joke. I thought someone had recreated Clark Griswold's Christmas. The fog rolling over the tree tops glowed. Then it moved. Ever so slightly.
"It's moving," said Courtney.
"I don't know what's going on over there but I'm sure it's not moving," I replied.
"You're crazy. It's... moving... What the hell is that?"
Neither of us would say so in person but I don't mind admitting it here, we were starting to get creeped out and undeniably a little scared. The lights got brighter. We were in shock. They were getting closer. Expletives were used. And then the most wonderful thing happened. Like the monster in the closet that threatens to end your life if you look away, then suddenly is a coat that you'd hung there in the afternoon. We had forgotten about the coat. Slowly, almost undetectably so, the fullest, most wonderfully bright moon ever beheld by any man rose out of the tree line. After that, the beauty and the awe are beyond my capabilities to capture.