Chasing the Moon...


Jesse had been talking about chasing the moon for a couple months. My head was filled with romantic visions of chasing down the mystery of the moon. He wanted to chase the full moon across Kern County’s countryside. “We’ll go to my favorite spots.” He said.

“Saturday night is the next full moon. You down?” Jesse sent in a text message last week.

“I’m down.” I said using music scene lingo. “NL is too.”

Saturday night the three of us set out on an adventure to chase the moon to the foothills of the mountains and a rural cemetery in Arvin, California. “You have to see the White Cross!” Jesse said. “And I love the way the moon shines on the cemetery.”

I was excited. Would the mystery of the moon finally be revealed to me in this rural farming community? I don’t know what it is about the moon, but I have been captivated by its radiance and mystery ever since I was old enough to find it in the sky. And now I was chasing after it down a rural highway headed for the foothills of the mountains.

For NL it was a creepy excursion into the night, one of many that night. For me, it was a romantic mysterious adventure. And if we caught the moon… we might unlock the secrets to fairy tales.

Perhaps that was a silly fairy tale notion. I suppose it’s a result of years of longing and wishing upon the moon for that illusive fairy tale of my own.

We drove up Hwy. 223 through Arvin towards the foothills of the mountains. The mountains were barely visible through the fog of the night. Illusive, unattainable, just like fairy tales. It felt strange to be that close to the mountains, rushing toward them, knowing they are right in front of you, but not really being able to see them through the haze.

Jesse was taking us to a White Cross that someone had erected in memoriam in the foothills. “Its beautiful! You have to see it.” He said. We pulled off the road and Jesse pointed out where the White Cross stood. It was too foggy; we couldn’t see it even though the moon shone full. Illusive again.

A couple of cars were parked a little ways down from us, their stereos thump thumping, the sound of laughter carried in the wind. The partiers stood in the way of us getting a closer look at the White Cross. Obstacles. Aren’t there always obstacles to finding fairy tales?

We talked and gazed at the moon in the chill of the night before giving up on the fairy tale of the White Cross and chasing the moon back through Arvin towards the cemetery.



We entered the serene cemetery set among rural farmland, parked and got out of our cars. We walked around, each in our own direction. Jesse was right; the moon did shine on the cemetery beautifully.



I felt such peace in the stillness walking among those who had passed on before me. I wanted their wisdom. Did they know the secrets to fairy tales? Did they know the secret to the moon? I wondered. We stood reverently listening to the sounds of the night. Breathing in the scent of the nearby crops and the smell of the earth that produced sustenance and that those in the ground had returned to.





Jesse told stories of his relatives buried there and of others. Legends, fairy tales… they seemed to walk with us in the telling of their stories.



But what of the moon? Its brightness shone silent, solitary. I felt it in my bones. We got in our cars and chased the moon back to Bakersfield. It remains a mystery...  posted by Matildakay at 10:27 PM