I rarely see the moon and it bothers me.
Living in Tunstall Bay, on the west side of the island, and down in the trees; to see the night sky we pretty much have to stand on the patio and look straight up. But the real reason I don’t see the moon is because it shows up after I’ve called it a day. I am an early to bed, early to rise kinda gal and sound asleep when it shows up.
It’s just that when the moon is full, I feel a responsibility to at least look at the darn thing.
So, I feel a sense of relief when moonlight shines in our bedroom window, in the early hours of the day, usually between three and four in the morning, waking me.
On full moon nights, it shines so bright through the windows, that at first, I think someone turned on a street light or perhaps we left a house light on in the night. Then I remember, it’s the moon and my chance to see it. So, instead of ignoring it, rolling over, and continuing my sleep, I get up and go to the window. I get sucked into the gravity pull that the moon is famous for.
I feel if I don’t get up and at least look at the moon, I am missing something wonderful in life and that would be unbearable and wasteful. I feel that 

if the moon is generous enough to come to me, I can do my part, and get out of bed, go to the window, and look.
Once I’ve seen the moon, I am able to go back to sleep satisfied.
I love to lie awake in my bed and let the light of the moon wash over me. I grew up in cities, and I was an adult before I realized that it wasn’t a street-light shining in, but actually the moon. I was entranced!
There are a few months over the summer here where we never see the moon or the stars, and I’m always happy when they return. They feel like a gift.