under the blood moon

I'd set my alarm and up I got. In my front room I could see that the eclipse was under way. So I set up the tripod, put on a jacket and some socks and opened the window to the night chill.
I'd arrived back late from dinner at my ex in-laws. There had been the knotted problem of grief from the brother of my children's granda who was visiting from Sri Lanka. I heard how my daughter took him to the graveside of his brother, who was also a father figure to him. How he stood, head bowed trying to untwist his despair and puzzlement. A light rain started. Suddenly an umbrella appeared over him and an arm appeared around his shoulders: it was my daughter who cast the spell that helped him let it all out. Just let everything out as if he is standing there in front of us. And his grief came. The magical outpouring happened.
I was thinking on this as I sat at the window. How emotionally literate my daughter is. A noise from the street came, as a car passed below, reversing all the way down the hill as if it was having second thoughts and wanted to go back and try again. The evening had been a going back for me too: old photos and stories, relationships I have buried. Another kind of vigil for a life where all the people are visible, but is no longer there. Tonight was just a brief shadow passing between the sun and the moon. A thing in itself.
I was getting cold as the night came in. The sky was hazy. I wasn't getting the photos I'd hoped for so I gave in and packed up. Closed the window and reversed back into bed to try and start again into my dreams.