How does one capture the feeling of being made to feel like a moon—cratered and whole, a silvered face, catching and returning lemon-laced sun. It’s a gift to know your light reaches the soil. A gift to see the imprint of your touch. I felt the way you all felt me when I saw you assembled like a fated family. Each of you standing in the dark of my dorm, woven between strands of love hung streamers.
