Artemis II is sailing towards the moon. I think about Artemis. I am not a paganist, but I really like the story of her: goddess of the hunt, of the wilderness, of the moon. Fiercely independent. Three of the virgin goddesses. Beholden to no one.
I am writing this on the Caltrain, beginning my long one-hour commute back to the South Bay from San Francisco. I look up and see the gorgeous moon through the window. She is perfect tonight. I google “is it a full moon tonight,” and it turns out it is. And as I am surrounded by Giants fans (mostly men), I gaze at the moon and share a deep, profound moment with her. Nobody can take her away from me. Like Mitski said, my love mine all mine.
I think about my talent of finding beauty in the mundane.
In my lane on a Thursday night. Listening to Berlioz. Kindle next to my laptop. The Hinge likes are too long to go through. Booked Pilates and SoulCycle for the next week. Manager said I did a great job. Mom happy and healthy. The only man blowing up my phone is my father and I press ignore because I don’t care.
It will take a lot for me to give this up again.