Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Vista sky


When I took the dogs outside for their last bathroom break last night, I was mesmerized by the sky. The moon's glow lit the curtain of filmy, silver-blue clouds that arched across the sky. When I brought the dogs in I told Wayne to put on his coat and step outside with me - I promised him it would be worth it. It was. We stood in silence, holding hands, heads tipped upward.

That sky reminded me of the paintings that hung - maybe still hang - up in the high front corners of the Vista Theater in Negaunee. When I was 8, 9, 10, it was still the kind of world where your dad dropped off you and a friend at the movies after dark and picked you up after. I shivered through many a cheap horror movie in the dark of the Vista. And I have a distinct memory of looking up at those night sky paintings. They gave me the same pleasantly spooky, lonely feeling I got when I stared up at the sky last night. I felt as a child - and felt last night - tiny and insignificant in a vast, indifferent universe.

That feeling was - then and now - tempered by the knowledge that I was securely anchored to the earth, close to home, warmth, and safety. It's all right to feel small and spooked when you know that the feeling is momentary, and comfort is close.

That's one of the aspects of fall that I most appreciate. It feels a little sad to feel winter closing in, but that sadness is eased by the warmth and comfort of home. I can appreciate that moment of melancholy, because the cure for it is on the other side of my back door.

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