At some point in the last year the blinds in our bedroom have broken so that one corner is perpetually stuck up at a wonky angle from the windowsill. But we’ve lived there for eight years and have resigned ourselves to stuff like that. A broken blind pull; nail polish smeared on the wall (courtesy of a 2-year-old H); the light on the stove that tells you when a burner is hot that doesn’t go off once everything has cooled down, until you bang on it. It’s fine. Whatever. #RenterLife, am I right?

But sometimes things surprise you, and as we move toward spring, and the earth shifts its rotation, and the moon moves through its faces, there have been nights lately where I’ve woken up, and the moon is coming right through that hitch in the blind, and shining on the bed.

The first time it happened, I assumed it was a streetlight (?) and I didn’t realize what it was until I laid down and put my face in it and saw the full moon through the trees. I stayed there until it had sunk behind the branches.

Some things feel preciously beautiful.

The last time it happened, I woke up Drew to show him, even though I know he has a hard time falling back to sleep. And now the moon is waning and it won’t happen again for another three weeks. But I hope I catch it again when it comes back.

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