Tonight, Son and I both howled at the moon. I don’t think we have ever done this before and it is not something I would recommend!
We hadn’t planned on howling at the moon together, but our mutual differences (yeah, one of those paradoxes), the emu fiasco, and the absence of Husband, reduced us both to such grief that the howling just happened.
Perhaps it was cathartic; perhaps not. Neither of us have ever been caught up in the net of self-pity, but tonight we were caught off-guard by a moonlit view of everything and it was overwhelming. So we howled. We howled at each other, with each other, and with the moon, until our voices were hoarse and the dogs became frightened.
Luckily we don’t have neighbours living closeby or they might have called the police!