Sometimes Moon Moment

I was listening to music last night when all of a sudden I remembered the full moon in Palawan. We were walking home from the shop where we borrowed our snorkeling gear. It was nighttime. It wasn't that late, and the streets of sleepy El Nido were just that--sleepy. Not much night life except for a couple of seedy-looking bars and good old Squido's with the satellite TV. We decided to walk along the shoreline. Stowing our slippers on the steps of one of the beachfront houses, we waded as far as we could without getting our clothes wet (we happily failed there). There was a moderate surf, just enough for your toes to tease the breaking waves for a moment before running back to shore, laughing and shrieking while the waves sigh at their inability to follow. We waded once again, this time holding ground against the waves. We just stood there, facing the full moon, holding hands and soaking in the moment--the wind, the sound of the surf and the smell of the sea. The sky was dark, but everything seemed to reflect a certain luminescence--the coconut trees, the beached fishing boats, the houses with their fading lights, the froth of the waves and the powdery sand. It's a poem of a memory I have yet to translate.