By Renae Brabham

There is a constant in the universe, an earth-speak, subtle hints of wonder left just for me on my journey... 

I don't believe the true magic of the universe can be conjured, but I do believe it will present itself if I am open to it. I realize with Covid that I can fall into a much smaller world (rabbit hole) which closes the portals to that magic. I have to fight that, I will ALWAYS fight that. I can take a ride, walk, phone call, write, spill into a journal, cook, paint....

On our way home from a trip to the mountains to meet a precious new life, our fourth generation great-grand girl, I thought of how fortunate I am to even utter those words. Four generations of women in one room. How divine.

The night before I was to meet Tinley, I climbed into the foreign cabin bed in the foothills of North Carolina, my soul's home away from home. My furry girl Zoe sighed and finally fell asleep curled up beside me, unsettled herself and looking for comfort from my body heat, I — the same from her. Both of us are accustomed to the creature comforts of our home.

Sleep was not as quick to come for me as was with Zoe. I tossed and turned. I was absolutely positive the ancient cabin logs housed creepy crawlers just waiting for the lights to go out. Finally, my eyes couldn't focus, my subconscious put guards at the gate and I drifted off.  

Around midnight, I rolled over and noticed a glow in the bedroom. A dream catcher hung in the window. I didn't pay any attention to it when we first arrived. Aren't they in every cabin in the mountains? So kitschy that they have lost their wonder. Or have they?

Maybe I just need to re-imagine their origin. I like to think an Indian maiden lying on her back, star-gazing on a cool mosquito-less fall night with a crackling fire nearby, framed the galaxy in her mind's eye and then made a twig frame for it. Call it what we may it's really not the piece itself is it? It is what is behind it, seen through it, or the memory caught in it.

Yes, a new moon she is, our Tinley. Continuity, promise, hope. Your light, your life is your voice, little one.

I walked in my own yard a month earlier and there, too, was a perfect nature-made frame hanging from a few transparent webs. There is a constant in the universe, an earth-speak, subtle hints of wonder left just for me on my journey if I will just pick up the little pieces of puzzle it leaves me along the way. However, it's not a practice as easy as eating and drinking, etc.

But — tonight, with the slivered light of a new moon, the dream catcher caught in its web two huge glowing stars/planets of which I am not sure. I called Don in to see them; they were so bright!  We do that; we share the wonder. Don is a night-owl, he will come to me in the middle of the night and take my hand to walk outside to see the night-wonders of darkness; a moon glow, an owl, a woodline full of fireflies or the eyes of a herd of deer. Tonight I called him. Light fluffy pastel blue clouds wafted through the webbing of that dream-catcher, the symmetry of the stars in it was absolutely beautiful.

Later I Googled the heavens to see what the phenomenon may have been. I really didn't know what to look for, but earthsky.org said that on October 16, 2020, the Eastern seaboard would have the year’s closest and largest new moon.

Yes, a new moon she is, our Tinley. Continuity, promise, hope. Your light, your life is your voice, little one.

Two nights after we came home from the mountains, just to prove it's not just a mountain thing, earth was showing off in the southern sky. Don again took my hand and walked me down the steps with a flashlight and then cut the light off to show me the big and little dipper. As a bonus, the Milky Way swept through the middle of the sky as if stroked with an angled camel haired artist brush, dipped in blue-gray paint. 2020 ain't all bad, y'all!