A Birth
Between two palm trees I watched the Earth eclipse the moon. Its shadow slid slowly, carefully, partially across, leaving a crescent sliver at the top. As it passed, the moon’s fullness again was revealed. Neighbors gathered on the sidewalk to watch the ceremony. I would learn later a friend’s son was born at that exact moment, 2,700 miles away. I imagined the child’s first view, through the hospital window, of the moon slowly escaping the shadow, and my friend missing it entirely.
No. 165
Apes
April 24, 2026
Sticky notes arranged along the base of my computer monitor offer me a reminder of all the clouds hanging over me. For focus, to overcome feelings of overwhelm. Then, it’s noticed. A coworker does the same beside me, hanging his own row of signal flags. Mimicry is a form of flattery, or like apes can act as the foundation for connection.
No. 047