A Total Eclipse

How many of you have seen a total eclipse of the sun in person?

Today's prompt, for #FridayReflections, is:  Write about a moment in your life you wish you could freeze and preserve.

I thought and I thought and I thought.  But at first, I couldn't think of one!

My memory is far from perfect.  And, as I age, it seems that my memory becomes balkier and balkier, as if my brain was a hard drive that was getting full.  There are a lot of happy moments in my life that I would love to freeze and preserve.


But then, it came to me.  This is my moment -  The total eclipse of the sun that I saw in March of 1970.  That's the moment I want.

Actually, the eclipse was the climax of a trip I took with members of my high school class (a specialized high school for those talented in the sciences) and others, several hundred miles, to see a total eclipse of the sun in North Carolina.  It was wonderful being away from home overnight.

And more wonderful to see a total eclipse, on a sunny day.

It's hard for me to describe an eclipse, because the moments before, during, and after totality are such an experience that words fail me.  I'm not the only one who feels that way, either.  

I am not a spiritual person, but in those moments, I felt something I have never felt before or after.  Don't be fooled by magazine articles that treat it as three minutes of "gee whiz, we can see a corona".  You have no idea what you are in for.

As the eclipse progresses, nature begins to realize something is not right.

Birds fall silent.  A wind springs up out of nowhere.  Even the people you are with stop talking  The air temperature drops and you shiver.  And then there is a wall.  You literally see the shadow of the moon sweeping along the ground (we were on a field in the stadium of a college.) 

The sun is obscured, a bright ring around it transfixes you, and you want to fall to your knees in absolute wonder.  Time stands still. You are chilled.  It isn't just the air temperature.

Dusk fell in the middle of the day, as scientists around me made their measurements and did their calculations.  They couldn't look up to see the beauty of what they were measuring. 

But I could.  I did.  And I wish that moment of totality, instead of lasting around three minutes, could have lasted forever.

This August, I hope to experience it again.  My husband and I will have to travel hundreds of miles from our home, but we are ready to.  This time, I will have my cell phone, but something tells me I won't be using it in those moments.

My autistic brother in law Bil loves science, and loves to see science documentaries and read science books.  How, I wonder, would he view an eclipse.  What would he think?  I could wish the eclipse was here where I live.

Perhaps we could have watched it together.

Maybe one day.

Join Sanch Vee and other bloggers for #FridayReflections.