The Witching Hour

I stepped outside last night to have a smoke (yeah, I’m smoking again). The moon was huge and whole. I watched the man in the moon without blinking until I was almost blinded by the light of the full moon. I love the night sky, always changing and moving, planets rising and setting, new moons, harvest moons and even the much beloved “toenail” moon. Last night there was an auora around the moon. I’ve heard tell that means change in coming. I sometimes wish I knew more about the constellations, other times I realize that more knowledge might ruin the magic of the night sky for me.

I loved to tell the princesses when they were small that each of the stars represented someone that loved us and has gone to heaven. The stars were the twinkling of their eyes watching us. I would tell them about grandparents and long deceased relatives that had died but still kept watch. Little princess picked a large bright star (really a planet, but who am I to argue) that was to be our precious dog Mandy who loved children as much as any grandmother that had ever walked the earth.

It’s comforting to know that even if all they are doing is watching, you are not alone and you are loved.

So now comes the witching hour. You probably thought that was midnight. Wrong. That’s way too early these days. Now maybe it was true back when people went to bed with the setting sun but nowadays, midnight is relatively early.

The modern Witching Hour is between two and three a.m. This is when children vomit, puke, or throw-up. Some how they can’t expunge the contents of their stomachs at 10 pm so we could all get a good night’s sleep, nor can they regurgitate at a more reasonable hour, say, 6 am.

So the moon foretold of change all right. I just didn’t know it would be the changing of puke covered bedding. Little princess shakes me awake at 3:15 am. “Sissy needs you,” she tells me, using her childhood nickname for Big Princess. I immediately hear retching, deep, from the bottom of your stomach retching.

Well, she’s a big girl now and her hair doesn’t need holding back and she knows what to do. So much like the twinkling stars in the sky, all I can do is let her know I’m watching over her.