Awake With the Wolf Moon

I remember exactly when I stopped fearing the night. I was at a slumber party to celebrate a friend's thirteenth birthday. Restless, feeling our oats, we went for a late night walk- only to find there was no need of flashlights. Though cast in silver, the world was still familiar under the full moon. Walking confidently abroad in the small hours, some sort of adult understanding switched on in me, and I changed- my child's fear of the dark dissipated. Never again would I want a nightlight.

Indeed, since that fundamental change, I have needed the dark to sleep well at night: so while I appreciate the luminosity of the full reflecting moon, it is ever and anon the bane of my slumberous existence. Like Macbeth, it murders sleep.

Which is why after some fitful dozing, followed by much tossing and turning (mind and body), I gave up the ghost. I explained my predicament to Dave when he surfaced slightly at my movement, then tucked him in to make up for the lack of my heat.

There is, of late, much to keep my mind occupied when I would rather it rest. What ultimately wrested me out of bed was a preoccupation with town politics. In two month's time, we will assemble, some forty or so residents, to vote on town officers and budget items for the year, among other things. The last two years saw little in the way of controversy, or change. This year will be a very different story.

We have known for some time that our second and third selectmen, young men both, would not be standing for office again. What we have recently learned is that the first selectman, a widow in her sixties, will not be standing for re-election. For years now, she has held the office. And no one would dare run against her, because lacking the income from the position, she would be unable to stay on the island. She's done her job as she sees fit, but cannot check email to save her life and is not willing to embrace even expedient technology. It's problematic for running a town in the 21st century, but who is going to vote against a long-time resident widow whose economic mainstay is that job? I cast my vote for her last year. This is how welfare works on the island.

Recently, she has decided that it is time to move on- on to the mainland. She won't be accepting nomination this year.

So now there are one, two, three selectman seats open- and who shall fill them? The pool of potential candidates is a quickly shrinking puddle. It was going to be a chore to fill two of the three places, and those were the seats with the (supposedly) smaller workloads. Add in increasingly tense dynamics socially, and the task looms Herculean.

I have a million other things to worry about right now, but this was the preoccupation my mind picked up as the moonlight poured in the bedroom windows. Sun light or dark of night, I guess I can't know what's around the bend.