By Charles M. Sumid      Copyright 2025      Written 2006

Forecast—clear.

Moon—cooperative.

Target list—ambitious. Nebulae, double stars, maybe a comet.

Notebook prepped.

Snacks, silent.

Socks wrong.

Hat itchy.

Telescope aligned. Immediately nudged off-course by a raccoon with strong views on optics.

Andromeda—vanished.

Messier 81—imaginary.

Comet—clearly fictional.

Admired the neighbor’s porch light—a very well-balanced photon.

The sky app buzzes: “Jupiter overhead.” I look up.

Definitely Orion.

Nobody corrects me.

I thank them quietly.

Powdered sugar in the eyepiece.

Sticky stars.

One bright dot above the chimney blinks like it’s in on the joke.

One cloud shaped like a bear eating marshmallows—more generous than the Eagle Nebula.

Notebook under my leg.

List, gone.

I lean back.

Telescope forgets me.

The sky goes off-script and gets better.

A wobbly glimmer, not what I came for—exactly what I needed. Just enough light to feel the night look back.