Harvest Moon

Harvest Moon

I want to celebrate

See it shinin' in your eyes

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon 

Neil Young - 1992

And I am still in love with her, although she left a while ago. She drew me into it believing in her dream and we lived that dream for 5 years.  The 5 happiest years of my life. 

It started on a warm, early autumn evening and there was a large, orange harvest moon hanging in the sky. Sitting in a pub garden with a group of friends, acquaintances really. She was among them, although we had not met before. We exchanged glances a few times before she moved across the garden and sat next to me. 

“Do you believe in the goodness of people?”  Her opening line.

“I guess so.”

“No.” A pause. She looked up at the moon, closed her eyes and I thought for a moment she was in a trance of some sort. Then she opened her eyes, looked directly into my eyes and said, 

“Do you really, truly believe in the goodness of people?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then we’ll get along fine. What do you do for a living?”

Suddenly I was setting my life out before her and very willingly.  She smiled and prompted and encouraged and, before I knew it, the others had left, we were alone and I was in love.

It was truly a whirlwind romance and although, in retrospect, I believe I can see what happened, I don’t regret it.

After that evening I couldn’t wait to see her again and I did, very soon and very often, to the exclusion of all my other friends. She seemed to feel the same way and it wasn’t long before we had moved in together and were sharing our lives. Or, rather, I was sharing my life.

She was unlike any other woman I had ever met. She was loving and caring. Something I had never experienced before. She was caring to such a degree that she began to take control of our lives. I guess, looking back, that I willingly surrendered, although I don’t recall it even crossing my mind.  

The first year passed in a cloud of bliss. I had never been so happy. I worked hard, at a very demanding job, but at the end of each day, she was there. In our home. Waiting for me to return. 

Toward the end of that year, she said, “It’s the lunar anniversary of our meeting.”

“What? What’s a lunar anniversary?”

“It’s the harvest moon. Don’t you remember the evening we met? It was blessed by a harvest moon. Let’s go out and sit under it again.”

So, we sat in our small garden on a warm, early autumn evening with the harvest moon above us.

 She looked up at the moon, then looked down and said, “Look at me.”

I looked in her eyes. She held my gaze for a while then closed her eyes and fell silent for while. Then she said,  

“Do you believe I love you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good.”  

We sat there in silence for a while. Then she started, “You work so hard and all I do is stay at home.” 

She went on to explain that, because I was working so hard, she would take over the running of the household completely. She would cook, clean, buy all the food, pay all the bills and settle all the accounts. All I had to do was let her have enough money. I really didn’t want things to change.  I agreed.

Our life continued happily. I continued to work hard and she provided me with a wonderful home to return to. In my mind it was the perfect relationship and she seemed contented too.

About a year later. She said, “It’s the harvest moon again.”

We went outside to sit under the moon.

She looked up at the moon and said, “Look at me.”

I looked in her eyes. She looked into mine, then closed her eyes and seemed to disappear into herself again. Then she said, 

“Do you believe I love you?”

“Yes, I do.” 

How could I answer otherwise?

“Good.”

We sat there in silence for a while. Then she started, “You still work so hard and all I do is stay at home.”

This time she went on to explain that, as I was working so hard and she was running the household so well, it would make sense to share all our accounts as joint accounts. It would make our life easier.

“No,” I said, “it would make my life easier and yours a little harder.” 

But as she was happy to support me in this way, I agreed and I changed all my accounts to be in joint names. She had but one account with the little in it that I gave her for the housekeeping, but we shared that as well.

Our life continued and I continued to be happy. I believe we both did.

On our lunar anniversary the next year, we sat under the harvest moon again.  

She looked up at the moon and said, “Look at me.”

I looked in her eyes and we seemed to be following the annual ritual. Eyes closed. Trance. Then, 

“Do you believe I love you?”

“Yes, I do.” 

And I truly believed it. 

“Good.”

We sat there in silence again.  

“I think we should be thinking about the future,” she said. “We should be saving more.”

The thought of a long future with her was in front of me and it looked like paradise. We had scarcely talked about it. We, or rather I, had been so content in the present that the future beyond tomorrow didn’t need thinking about.

She set out her financial plan. She would draw up a budget as she knew our financial situation so well. Then she would give us each a petty cash account to allow us to live from day to day and week to week and the rest would go into a master account which she would take care of.

Over the following days, she consolidated our accounts. I had a cash account which I could access for my daily needs and I was happy that our future was assured. I even allowed myself to dream of us building up enough of a reserve so I could give up work so we could spend more time together.

The next year, we were once again sat under the harvest moon.

She looked up at the moon and said, “Look at me.”

I looked in her eyes and all I could see was love, until again she closed her eyes.

“Do you believe I love you?”

“Yes, I do. I really do.” 

“Good.”

We sat there in silence again.  

She broke the spell by bringing out a picture, a photograph, which she handed to me . It was a family group. Her, an older couple who appeared to be her mother and father, and a couple of younger siblings.

“My family.”

I had no idea what to say. It was, I realised, the first time she had mentioned a family. The first time she talked of herself other than in terms of wanting to be with me and support me.

“They have difficulties and I have to go home to help them.”

“What? When? Where?”

“Tomorrow.” She mentioned a country I had never heard of.

I was numb. 

“I’ll come back. And I will leave you a gift. Look at me.”

She looked at the moon again, took my hands, looked into my eyes without blinking, then, simultaneously we both closed our eyes. When I opened them again, I felt a lightness I had never felt before. She smiled and said,

“Use it wisely.”

She left the next day.

I knew she wouldn’t come back. I knew the only money I would have was the little I had in my petty cash account, but I had a job and a regular income. I adjusted and life continued, but without the halo that surrounded it before. I could not be sad. I loved her still and I was pleased that she would take something from our years together. I had something too: the gift she had left me with. I could feel it, but I was unsure what it was.

I gradually re-entered the world around me and began to meet other people again. It was about a year later that I was in the garden of a friend. It was a birthday party. Early autumn and a harvest moon. I was struck by a young woman standing alone. I approached her and she turned and smiled.  

I smiled back. I looked up at the moon, turned to her and said, “Do you believe in the goodness of people?”

“I guess so,” she said hesitantly

“No.” I looked at the moon again, “Do you really, truly believe in the goodness of people?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then we’ll get along fine. What do you do for a living?” I said.

And she started setting her life out for me.