Totality!!!

It. Was. Amazing.

It was frightening and disturbing and uplifting and thrilling and just everything at once.

Before and just for the first bit of the eclipse, it was like any other neighborhood block party, with food and friends, laughter, kids running around, etc. Someone had made a cheesecake with Oreos portraying the eclipse in cookie form. Some young man who was apparently a theater lighting tech brought a disco ball, which reflected tiny little crescents of light, just like a pinhole camera reflects the progress of the eclipse. He was also cheerfully calling out “fifteen minutes ’til totality – ten minutes – five minutes” which just added to the festivity and anticipation.

There were a few spirited discussions of how your average medieval peasant would have felt, a few smartass comments about how long it was taking for “that damn crocodile to eat the sun” (I will admit fault there), observations as how the sun (properly viewed through our many many many eclipse- appropriate devices) looked now like a cookie being nibbled, now like a cat’s head, now like a crescent, getting ever thinner… the light dimming as we noticed it getting colder, darker ….

Then. It. Happened.

We all let out a howl in unison and then fell silent. We took off our glasses and looked up at the ring of fire in the sky, then around at the surreal darkness enveloping us. Birds, confused, fled quickly to their roosts. The wind dipped. I gripped my poor husband’s hand hard enough it almost hurt, as I felt awe and terror course through me.

It was cold, so cold, even for a Vermont afternoon in April. We donned jackets and hats and shivered, looking up at the sky. All conversation was hushed, expectant.

It lasted much longer than I thought it would. And then, in the opposite direction, the crescent reappeared and we had to use the glasses again.

It took much longer for it to get warmer than it had taken to get so cold. Now the sun was a cat’s head again, and then the cookie, and we all stared now quietly up at the tiny corner of the moon still blocking the sun.

I felt deep relief and a quiet awe, gratitude for the return of the sun so strong that I was shaking a bit. When at last the moon had totally passed by, we all cheered again. Someone started signing “here comes the sun” and we all joined in, giggling in relief.

The birds sang their morning songs, more than a little confused, and someone wondered what they had made of it all.