Eclipse

On July 11, 1991 my husband and I stood among people on a on the steps surrounding the central plaza in the ruins of Monte Alban near Oaxaca, Mexico. We were part of a group trip sponsored by the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Hundreds of people in addition to our group lined the plaza.  Near us was a group with painted faces.  As the sky began to darken, the sound of drums added to the anticipation of what was to come.  We had donned special solar glasses so we could watch the moon move across the face of the sun until only the corona was visible.  The temperature dropped and the crowds quieted as darkness fell.  Only the sound of drums continued.  For two minutes we experienced our spiritual connection to the natural world...and then it was over.  The moon gradually moved away and the sun shone again.  That was one of the peak experiences of my life, one I will never forget.

On Monday during this year's eclipse my life was very different.  I could no longer share the partial eclipse we could view in Houston with my husband, who died nearly 12 years ago.  If he had been alive, we would have traveled again with the Museum of Natural Science and seen totality in Wyoming.  
So this time I saw a partial eclipse, but I was surrounded by friends, the fellow residents of my apartment and my dear friend Lynn who came to our eclipse party.  We sat on the patio, wearing our special glasses and gazing in wonder at the sky.  The clouds parted just in time. We watched the moon covering 2/3 of the sun and watched again as it moved away.  In between we feasted on an "eclipse cake." The sight was awe-inspiring and the cake was delicious.  

And by the way, a note from yesterday's Houston Chronicle eclipse article.  A woman whose children attend school in or near Dallas called the school district to complain about the eclipse.  "Monday's the first day of school.  Couldn't they have scheduled the eclipse on the weekend?"  Fake news, or did it really happen?  You decide.