My wife and I live along a river in eastern North Carolina. As it flows by our dock, it’s about four miles across. Around ten the other night I switched off the TV and went out in our backyard and over to a rocking chair on the terrace above the river.
I sat back and looked up into the cloudless night sky. To the north and south of us are two towns that put up too much light to allow the citizens to view what’s overhead. Our small neighborhood is fortunate. It’s dark enough to enjoy what’s shining above. Sitting there I could take in the stars and wonder just how far the light that was just arriving had come. I could ponder how long ago had it started out. I could imagine myself part of something so much bigger. Limitless.
Adding to the enjoyment were the cool night air, the sound of the river rippling against the seawall rocks below, and the river channel marker lights flashing green at differing intervals.
After a while, clouds moved in from the west, slowly extinguishing the heavenly lightshow. It was time to go in and go to bed.