The tips of her toes trace the water, creating baby ripples that echo across the pool, growing larger and larger until they stretch into flatness. Moonlight dances across her face, illuminating the already pale strands that fall across her brow. Inhaling, she slowly drinks in the smells of the night - rosemary from a neighbor’s bush and the damp scent of autumn leaves. Tonight, she could pass for an angel. Even in her suburban backyard containing Target lawn chairs and an inflatable beach ball, she is the epitome of divine.

The screen door flies open, interrupting the night’s serenity.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

She turns toward the voice, lips pouted in shock at such a silly question.

“I’m glowing, Mother.”

She turns back to watch her feet floating listlessly through the water, her pale legs dipping into the ebb and flow. Overhead, the prismatic moon watches her jealously, wishing to be closer to the earth she enjoys. She gazes up and giggles, her teeth flashing in the dimness and proving to be as white as the moon itself. As if to taunt it further, she kicks her legs to create frothy waves that creep over the pool’s edge.

“What do you mean, glowing? What are you laughing at?”

Her feet pound down upon the surface one last time, the denouement of her midnight operetta. The water bursts up in a final splash, stretching toward the heavens and then sprinkling back down to drench everything from her flowing hair to her ivory legs to the eerily bright pool. Her arms reach for the droplets as they rise and fall, trying in vain to capture each and hold them close to her chest, safe and shushed.

“I’m glowing, Mother.”