By Joshua Sipkin
It’s always the last place you look, isn’t it, that thing you so desperately seek. Found it last night in South River, New Jersey, because of course that’s where it was.
Always the last place you look.
The moon was stunning Monday evening, arresting even, as it began its rise in the central Jersey sky having suddenly appeared as the most welcomed pop-in guest of all time. Low enough to reach out and touch - could have sworn so - flawlessly round, wide and bright. That dapper yellow of Baskin-Robbins vanilla. It was perfect.
Dinner, with the groceries procured over the course of two hours and five locations because life is too short to eat something less, would have to wait. The moon needed to be chased.
Didn’t know a secret spot so just started driving toward that aforementioned hamlet, thinking it was a bit darker and made for better viewing. River Road, has anyone noticed there’s always a River Road, had fabulous sightlines with its elevation and barren trees. But there was no place to park and Jersey drivers just love to tailgate. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down.
Nothing like being in front of a Jersey driver to make you feel like Anakin Skywalker speeding through nightlife on Coruscant.
Still chasing, made a random turn and came upon the cemetery on a hill across from which was an empty field bisected by a narrow road. Pulled to the side, turned off the ignition and rolled down the window to gaze at the natural wonder.
Silent awe, blissful stillness.
Another car came by and turned onto that small road, lights off. Noticed another beside it. Others captured by the same thing. And by the light of the moon realizing a bond with people never to be met or known.
Goodness, we’re all so the same.
It was then the jog came and remembered some new friends had recently mentioned their secret spot. Let’s go. This time had to plug in the GPS but four minutes later found that spot, along with the elusive, exclusive jewel from the opening sentence.
The moon, now a little higher and a little less OMG but only a little, was still incredible. But then I remembered why I remembered. Because there, perched up on that hill at the far end of a parking lot, overlooking a baseball field (because the universe somehow always brings you back to your first love) and far out on the horizon, were the unmistakable flickering lights of New York City, glimmering regally in the distance.
The eternal muse doing muse things.
Those streets will make you feel brand new. Those big lights will inspire you. Even from 41 miles away. Guess you always can go home again.
You just have to know where to find it.
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