I’m at my desk, focused on researching another factoid when she tip-toes into my office. I hardly notice her presence until she gives me a nudge on my elbow. It’s time.
My eyes, locked on the computer screen, don’t budge from their fixation. I plead without turning from the monitor. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be done with this.”
Another nudge. No, it’s time.
I knew it was pointless to delay further. She’ll insist and I’ll lose my focus. It really was time, and she’s been very patient. She deserves my total attention.
I got my coat and hat. January nights make this tough, but we keep to our regiment. She has her thick winter coat on and is ready to go, as always.
Stepping through the doorway in a shared stride, we take our passage out of the contained and into the free. Together, we seek the beyond. Leaving the porch, at the bottom step we do the expected pause and both look up. It’s a clear night with a new moon. Perfect. We eagerly walk to the spot. It wasn’t too far. A place where there’s a clear view and no streetlights to ruin the sight.
The necessary interlude of our travels is complete. We are there, at our spot. She knows the exact location in the grass where we will stop. We sit on the cold ground. Silent together, we lean into each other and gaze skyward. It’s there… or will be in just a few minutes. It’s worth the wait, even if the chill of the night air is seeping deeper into our coats with every second. It’s worth the wait because the wait itself is part of the joy. This is our time together. In the universe’s vastness, those finite shared moments are what’s special. They may be brief, but they last forever.
We gaze up at the sky. She knows. She feels my wonder, my awe. That first star is right there in the sky. Billions of light years away in the infinity of space, but still right there.
She looks up at me with those loving, understanding eyes. She knows nothing of infinity, but she knows all about being right there.
“Okay, girl. Let’s go get some chow in your dinner bowl.”