When I look up at the sky I have a profound sense of loss. Here I am on Hatteras Island in winter time. There aren’t many people around; at least not when you compare it to the summer. When I go out at night and the sky is clear I can see the constellations and the stars that make them up.

But I remember as a boy growing up in Ridgefield Connecticut looking up at the sky at night and seeing the Milky Way. I remember seeing The Big Dipper and The Little Dipper with Draco The Dragon running in between. Now, I can see The Big Dipper. I can see the end of the handle of The Little Dipper – the North Star, and I can see the two stars that make up the end of the dipper of The Little Dipper. If I work hard at it I can see some of the other stars that make up The Little Dipper and on a really clear night I can see some stars in between the two constellations. Using my imagination I can try to recall how Draco is configured, but I’m not sure; the stars don’t help. They are too dim.

In late evening I can see Signus The Swan. She swims down the Milky Way. The constellation looks more like the top of a crucifix because the stars of the neck (or bottom of the cross) are much fainter than the four that make up the head, wings, and connecting point. But when there is no ambient light and the sky is clear there are thousands of stars behind Signus and she swimming in this bath of millions of points of light.

I miss the stars. I miss the Milky Way. It gives one a grounding that orients oneself to the earth and the universe. It lets you know just where you fit in. It lets you dream big and shows you how small you are.

January 11, 2007