At 6:30 AM I opened the front door to see how cold it was. It was not. I threw the sweat pants down on the front stairs. I would be running on December 25, 2015 in my Old Nautica T-shirt, a vintage Polo sweatshirt, touque and coat and just my Georgetown Hoyas shorts.
I am of the generation that used to run in hand-me-down sport gear, and the idea of brand new togs to sweat in and to wick away moisture had not been invented at that time. We ran in gym clothes or old play clothes and Converse All-Stars.
I went out to the street and walked to the end. I turned the corner and the moon was enormous pregnant in the sky, dropping bulbously slow beneath the thin covering veil of cirrus clouds that covered it, a cloud bright and dark like interstellar dust which sometimes blots and darkens and sometimes dawns up and transluxes.
It was a full moon, and it took me by surprise.
I had my iPhone with me. I have had to carry it ever since She-who-must-be-obeyed said I must carry in case I were running and had a cardiac infarction, or a stroke, or had to be notified that I had won the lottery.
So I took pictures, what else?
La Bella Luna ! and I thought of Cher! I thought of La Bella Luna! I thought of Vincent Gardenia, Olympia Dukakis, Danny Aiello, Nicholas Cage, Louis Guss, Julie Bovasso, John Mahoney, and a Feodor Chaliapin who was not singing opera!?
I ran five miles at a pace of 5 miles per hour, which was not bad considering that I had late dinner at my brother's and did not get to bed until 12:30 AM. It was a wonderful Christmas Eve party, and I particularly enjoyed dodging the two Millenium Falcon drones gifted to my nephew and which were flying around the apartment, blowing out candles with their back draft. (Some old ladies were spotted in the hallways with their walkers and rollators, so the nephew was sent out there to bedevil the old numbers.)
What a wonderful morning.
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