On Sunday morning, I was in a hotel shuttle on the way to the airport in Portland, Oregon. It was 5:30 and still dark. There were several other people in the van and as we pulled away from the hotel, and out onto the highway, I caught sight of the moon—an incandescent crescent in the sky.
I said, “Oh, look at the moon.”
And the older man sitting next to me, “Yes, there she is.”
We drove the rest of the way to the airport in silence.
But I kept those words with me for the whole trip home. For me, they are a little poem of recognition, wonder, connection.
“Yes, there she is.”

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