This morning, Audrey woke me up about ten minutes before six. I went downstairs to let her out, put on the outside lights, and ventured out into the chilly, pre-dawn darkness.
One of the few good things about my old nemesis is that it makes it possible to see about 1000 times more stars than you can in the city. Sometimes there are so many stars that they are a huge hazy galaxy instead of individually set sparkling diamonds.
This morning, however, the sky was studded with about a million and a half stars, the perfect setting for the eclipsing moon, which I could see through the black trees.
The moon was a rich, luminous orange as it reached the total eclipse. As I gazed in wonder, a shooting star streaked over it, leaving me gasping in amazement. A little white trail briefly lingered, and then vanished into my heart and memory forever.
I stood there stunned for a little while, hardly able to believe what I had just seen. Hours later, I am still deeply moved. Something happened to me on this early winter morning, as night turned to day. But I don’t have the words to express it. I just have the feeling. And the memory of something incredibly special.