Cold Moon Clarity

Winter cold moons its way through my bedroom window. Frosty beams glint off Dad’s photo, a standing sentinel to memories of a live ill-lived. Wooden-framed seductive smile, handsome rugged looks, bely the sad inside his mind. “Regettsive behavior” I called it. Regret for not loving our mom more, for not honoring their marriage vows, for not being a good, good father to four daughters who idolized him, yet hated the pain we saw in our mother’s eyes. Winter cold moons its way into the depths of my soul reminding me of childhood days filled with paternal love insecurity balanced with fierce protective mother love that gifted me with resilience. Resilience to release to the clouds what was, what can’t be recreated, a naïve what-wasn’t-ness that lulled me into thinking things were better than they were. Winter cold moons its way into the darkest corners of my mind, illuminating the cold truth of life. Icy moonlight rays remind me photos are not true pictures of the past, prodding me to relegate the smiling father to the pile of faded photographs albummed in my heart ... faded memories, faded hurts, faded reality. But with deep-down, cold-moon clarity, I know he loved us.