She stood at the top of the path leading down to our door, hands clasped together in front of her, looking up at the new moon, which shone from the dark purple, summer night sky like a sliver of silver.
“Ich gruße dich, das neues licht…”
She spoke the rhyme too quietly for me to hear and anyway my German was not good enough to follow along after the first sentence. I had seen her do this many times before; each time I was fascinated by her ability to remember to observe this tradition. I knew, because she had told me, that it was something she had done with her mother since being a little girl and it was important to her because it made her feel close, while she was so far away.
I waited quietly for her to finish greeting the moon, and tried so very hard to burn the image of her standing there into my mind; to always remember her in this simple, innocent, beautiful way. She finished the rhyme and then turned to walk to me, a little smile on her face.
In that moment I knew that I would always love her…