once in a blue moon

Every so often, maybe three or four weeks, the mood changes. The earth buckles and shifts, lifts itself up and settles back down into a new space. The wind swirls, reminds itself to be warm and caring, and curls around our legs, ruffles our hair, and strokes our cheeks. The birds sigh in satisfaction, then sing longer and louder; the wild beasts sheathe their claws and quell their howls; for all know this special day. A day for peace, for putting aside differences, for celebrating our lives. A day for coming together as one. A day for quiet happiness, for shared joy.

We know the moment is fleeting, and that nothing like this day can truly last for long, but perhaps we cherish it all the more for its brevity. We lock it into our hearts, a dream, a mystical memory, a golden moment etched into being by the very hope that it, itself, carries in the winds.

In our house, it is marked by the sounds of quiet chewing. In our house, it is known as Tuna Day.