On the one year anniversary of Don’s divorce, the moon appeared in the morning sky, bright and large, defiant to the expectations that it should sink away with the night. Smiling up, Don identified with day moon. If his ex wife had any say, he too was expected to sink away with his failed former life and remain forever in it’s crumbled ruins but, like the day moon, Don chose to defy Earthly expectations and remain in the daylight. However, like the day moon, Don knew he couldn’t stay in the daylight forever. The daylight was for the young and the virgins. For the newly adult girls that encouraged him into one-night flings of passionate abandon. Not that he fought their advances. To be honest, he down right encouraged them; conceited and thankful for a youthful body that advertised him as a younger man. A less lived man. A man that hadn’t split his dreams apart to share with her, only to have them returned, stale and unused. Maybe that’s why he enjoyed this new sex so much. Their young and irresponsible passion fed his lost innocence and afforded him time to pretend he wasn’t weighed down with regret. In those moments, he could pretend to be just like them, living a life full of exuberant possibility. Pretending to share in the youthful optimism that springs from inexperienced ignorance.
But he wasn’t like them, really, and the more he tried to trick himself into believing that he was, the less he could move on. He turned away from the moon, finding it less like a guiding light and more like a mirror.