It's going to show up for you, she said, pointing up at the night sky, which was completely

covered in cloud, hiding a full moon behind it.

In fact, the sky revealed only the moon's glowing silhouette.

And still, I felt like it was the brightest I'd ever seen it.

I wasn't exactly sure.

I never really paid attention like this.

But in that moment, it felt remarkable.

It was around midnight.

We'd pulled over a few miles north of Scottsdale, got out of the car, and we're standing

about ten feet from the road on a little clearing amidst the cacti and other desert plants.

Both looking up, taking in the silence, the loudest silence I'd ever heard. Again, things are just so, so different

when you pay attention.

A few moments went by, and we watched as the moon pushed its way from behind the clouds through the darkness, and right to the center of a small clearing in the cloud-covered sky,

as if the world had created one tiny window for that moon to peer down at us, unrestricted.

There it was. It was perfect.

I told you it would show up for you, she said.

I could somehow feel her smiling as she said it.

But I didn't say anything, because I didn't know what to say.

Believe it or not, sometimes even people who yapp for a living have no words. Then, just as fast as it arrived, it disappeared behind that cloud-covered curtain again.

Just as fast as it was shining down in all its beauty, its power, its light,

it was a memory.

It was just like life.

...