the moon is always beautiful

i observe the moon and i mistakenly remark how beautiful she looks tonight, as if there is ever a night where she isn’t.

i suddenly panic; who else have i undermined, so insidiously? with every “i love you” do they understand that my love is constant—constant, even in silence—that i love them, not just in the moments when i proclaim it, but in all the other moments surrounding every affirmation?

or when i tell them “thank you” for every helping hand and every act of kindness, do they understand that my gratitude extends well beyond what they give to me or what they do for me—that i am also thankful for the heart that moves the hands that gift and aid?

do they understand that i am thankful for their existence wholly and how without it food would be tasteless and music would sound muffled and even the moon would seem mundane?