In my evening walk from a few months past, I looked up at the night sky and saw a beautiful full moon. A few meters below it was a solitary star, twinkling as if in rhythm with the chilly, evening air. I hugged myself a little tighter, drawing my jacket to whatever closer my growing belly would allow.

In the pitch black night sky, these two celestial bodies offered a solace. But we all know that there’s another celestial body in play — the Sun. The one that gives the moon its light. The one that validates the Moon’s existence.

I continued my walk with these thoughts. Will the moon continue to exist in our conciousness if the Sun doesn’t share its light? Will the moon be ever enough without a star? Will the moon be ever a moon without its Sun, another star, I know, but far more closer, bigger, and brighter than any other star our naked eye could see.

I slept through the night with these thoughts, with these questions without answers.

A few months after, I am out in my early morning walk. Too early that I was able to see the sun rise from the clouds and the cityscapes. The air is not as chilly; I don’t need to put a jacket on. My belly more rounded now.

As the Sun continues to rise in the East, I saw the moon from the other side. In contrast to that chilly evening walk from a few months past, this was a half moon, not aglow with the Sun’s light, not accompanied by any other star. The moon was solitary but perfectly visible on the morning sky with its white, chalky appearance. I can see the craters and all other imperfectness on its surface but it’s still a marvel to look at.

I continued my walk with these thoughts — the questions from a few months past, I think I know the answers.