Menopause

Howling at the Moon

Moon Rise

Cliff and I attended a Howl at the Moon Party last week on Bald Head Island.

Red pepper crab soup; appetizers and cookies;  beer; a bagpiper; and sparking conversation with Margot and John, a couple we met at the party, made it a night worth howling about (happy howling, that is).

Then it hit me. I’d never ever seen a moonrise. How’s that for saving some new experiences for your menopausal years?

When I was a little girl, I was terrified of the moon. “No moon!  No moon!” I’d shout. My parents had to close the curtains in my bedroom so not a speck of moon peeked through.

Look at me now! Partying in the moonlight!

We have touchstones in life. The moon is for me, as I suspect it may be for you, one of them. It’s a quirky ball that lives above our heads, and even on a cloudy night or if  it only shows a sliver, it’s there. And when the moon laughs in bright orange or displays cheddar cheese patterns or puts on a show over the ocean, we’re delighted to be among  its admiring earthlings.

During every full moon, Patti Winker’s post, “The Moon and The Menses,” gets lots of views. Here’s the link. Women and the moon go way back!

Patti

The ancients believed the moon mirrors the life of a woman: maiden, mother, and crone, the moon in its new, full, and fading forms.

Maybe.

But when I stood on the beach and howled with the others, I didn’t feel like a crone at all.

A-woooooooooooo!