In the wee small hours

I woke up at 4:10 this morning and decided to go look at the total eclipse of the moon. I had heard that the West Coast had front row seats for the show and that the moon would be a beautiful, mysterious red.

I had a good view from my front porch, and the eclipse was on the wane by that time. The moon was low in the western sky, with the right lower third still in shadow. The shadow was indeed a deep red, but it wasn't beautiful; it made me think of a blood clot.

It was very quiet outside. The only other living being stirring in the neighborhood was a white and orange cat slinking down the sidewalk across the street. I wondered how many of my neighbors were awake at that hour, perhaps watching the same moon from their backyards or bedroom windows; more likely a few people were up and about but doing things like showering or making coffee, completely oblivious to the strange light show in the western sky. How much do we miss -- do I miss -- by being preoccupied with mundane routines, like sleeping or getting ready for work? I'm glad that for once I was able to put my insomnia to good use and see a rare, ugly, blood-red moon.