The crescent moon shines in the night sky. Its light pools in through my window, spilling onto my pillows and lulling me into peaceful dreams. When I wake again, my hands that held the light are empty, and there’s nothing but darkness. While I traveled through my dreams of childhood rooms and present day faces, the moon traveled across the sky. Now its light spills in through a different window, shining on my feet. And I don’t have to be more than half-awake to know that the moon will change. Its position, its shape, its luster will move from one stage to the next. And I might have a favorite phase, but all of them are good. Life can be that way, too. Things change, but that’s not always a bad thing. I follow the light wherever it goes, and I keep dreaming. And each time I find it, I savor the crescent moon.