New Moon

My father, outwardly the most prosaic of men, had a ritual that he kept religiously. Once a month, when he spotted the new moon, he would stop what he was doing and turn over the loose change in his pocket - I can remember the jingle of coins to this day. I think you were probably supposed to make a wish as well but he never talked about that.

Homeward bound, yesterday late afternoon. I had a window seat in the half empty carriage.

I think it was after the train pulled out of Wrexham that the first thin curve of the moon appeared. Hardly noticeable at first in the late afternoon sky, as the day dimmed and the sun sank towards the horizon the new moon's light grew; she seemed suspended above our little train as we hustled south towards Shrewsbury. Now and again her image was reflected in a river or a pond ..... a cool light in the dark land.

We rushed through Craven Arms, Church Stretton, then Ludlow, past hedges and fields, factory farms and gardens - ugliness and beauty one and the same now - the hills much closer here, large black shapes looming out of the night. I could hear the rumble of conversation a few rows back; a woman read a newspaper on the other side of the aisle. Occasionally the ticket inspector came by. For the last hour of the journey I leant back in my seat and watched the crescent moon, from time to time with a lump in my throat. Impossible to focus on anything else.

At some point there was a shift. The heaviness and anxiety of the past weeks softened and lightened.