“And you know, Anna, I really think I’m going to be okay.”

I hated the fact that there was an ocean between us but his voice still sounded the same – hard, on the surface perhaps, but underneath that, comforting. Soft, maybe. I don’t know. Perhaps the distance between us was effecting my memory.

I sat on the back porch, holding the phone up to my ear. The warm summer air stirred the trees. The moon was beautiful, full. The stars were amazingly bright.

I closed my eyes and tried to keep the tears out of my voice.

“What time is it there?” I asked him softly.

I heard a rustling as he checked his watch. “Nearly midnight.”

“Are you outside?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, almost surprised. But after all those years, the truth was that I almost knew him better than he knew himself.

“Look up at the moon,” I tell him, my own eyes searching its luminous surface as though it held some kind of answer.

“I am.”

“It’s almost hard to believe we’re looking at the same one,” I said, the tears finally spilling over.