Moonlight.

I have decided to take Monday off in honor of the Marathon; one of my favorite days in Boston. Knowing I'll be up later than I typically am on a Sunday night, my friend asks if I would like to go for a spin. Sitting at my desk, writing away, I hear him arrive. My bedroom windows look down onto my street. I crack open one of them, call down that I'll be down in a minute. I pull on my boots, toss my hair into a ponytail, grab the warmest leather jacket I have. I make it half-way down my hallway before I run back into my apartment, remembering I'll need my gloves.

He hands me a helmet, I fumble with the chin strap momentarily before getting it to snap in place. I climb on the back, he asks if I'm ready, I nod a quick yes. With a turn of his wrist, we are off, heading down my street as the clock approaches midnight, riding away from my apartment on his motorcycle.

The full moon is technically Monday, but that doesn't matter. Sunday gives us a crystal clear evening and a brilliantly bright, round moon. We come to a light just before the Longfellow Bridge. He turns toward me, bike idling. "This is going to be the coldest part. No more buildings around us." I shake my head. "I'm fine. Honest." I reply. The light turns green and we are off; not a soul around us, not another car in sight. We crest the bridge - my favorite bridge in the city, one I cross twice daily on the T commuting to and from the office, one that holds one of the most stunning views of our city. It is a view I never tire of, one I can't imagine taking for granted. And tonight, it is all ours; shared only with that gorgeous moon.

We are off the bridge too quickly, slowing for another light. I clamor for one last look at the skyline before we round the bend heading into Beacon Hill, still alone on the deserted streets. We idle at another stop light. I take a deep breath, refusing to allow myself to close my eyes for even the briefest of seconds. I realize, no matter what, that I have been given this; a few quick moments of unexpected awe.

I will take it, I think to myself. I will take them and notice them and breathe them in just as deeply as I can and I will never give them back.

Ever.