Star light, Star bright
With everything that's happened lately, it's hard to remember that at one point, I had a pretty normal family. Dad worked, mom worked from home during tax season, we went on vacations (never long or expensive ones, mostly visiting relatives out of state) and on clear nights, winter or summer we'd have a Bushnell telescope that we'd use to stargaze.
Since then, part of my heart has always been tied in with the stars. One thing I sorely missed in Newark was being able to see the stars. On a good night, the moon was pretty clear and sometimes the North Star but usually very little else. Nights Rich and I would drive out to Parsippany I always took my chances looking up to get a glimpse of something other than those two, lone celestial bodies. Coming home over break was like getting to see billions of old friends all at once.
One of my most cherished memories at what is now the old house is one balmy summer night the space shuttle was due to pass the moon, and for one amazing moment I was a little girl again, out in the yard with binoculars (my grandfathers, the pair he brought back from the war and they still work better than any pair I've had) bouncing on the balls of my heels waiting for that one incredible sight. When the shuttle did eventually come into view, I'm pretty sure the whole block heard me: "Dad, look, there it is!" And it streaked by the moon, strangely pink and fast. The neighbor, a kind old man named Ernie who could barely walk was out there with us, though his sight and reflexes weren't quick enough to catch it.
It's nights like this I'm glad for the memories, no matter what came before or after them.
Since then, part of my heart has always been tied in with the stars. One thing I sorely missed in Newark was being able to see the stars. On a good night, the moon was pretty clear and sometimes the North Star but usually very little else. Nights Rich and I would drive out to Parsippany I always took my chances looking up to get a glimpse of something other than those two, lone celestial bodies. Coming home over break was like getting to see billions of old friends all at once.
One of my most cherished memories at what is now the old house is one balmy summer night the space shuttle was due to pass the moon, and for one amazing moment I was a little girl again, out in the yard with binoculars (my grandfathers, the pair he brought back from the war and they still work better than any pair I've had) bouncing on the balls of my heels waiting for that one incredible sight. When the shuttle did eventually come into view, I'm pretty sure the whole block heard me: "Dad, look, there it is!" And it streaked by the moon, strangely pink and fast. The neighbor, a kind old man named Ernie who could barely walk was out there with us, though his sight and reflexes weren't quick enough to catch it.
It's nights like this I'm glad for the memories, no matter what came before or after them.