My Life in Comets

We have a new comet:  Neowise.  I've seen news articles about how it's visible, and some far-flung friends have seen it.  It's most visible in the northwest sky an hour after sunset and in the northeast sky an hour before sunrise.

Although I don't hold out much hope for seeing it after sunset, I've gone outside to try.  I think we just have too many trees and too much light pollution.  And lately, we've had too many clouds.

I have seen some glorious sunrises, along with some lightning shows, but so far, no comet.  I'm trying not to see this experience as a metaphor.

But this morning, I thought, what if it could be a metaphor?  And during my walk, I started thinking about a short story in 3 parts--and then I thought about writing 2 versions, a short short and a regular.

I'd been thinking about the 3 comets that have been in the sky during different parts of my life.  In 1986, my boyfriend (who would later become the spouse I have now) and I went out to a dark country road to try to see Halley's Comet.  We looked towards the direction where we were told we could see the comet.  There was a smudge.  Was it Halley's?  We told ourself it was.  We calculated how old we'd be in 75 years when it returned to Earth's view:  96 for me.  I might make it.

Like the rest of the nation, I was enthralled by the Comet Hale-Bopp when it appeared in 1996, and I always looked for it when I was out at night.  That was the year that I was driving a lot at night.  My spouse was back in grad school in Columbia, SC, and I worked in the Charleston area--we spent long week-ends together, and I almost always drove to him, so that he had more time to study.  The sight of the comet as I drove up I 26 never failed to make me cheerful.

That comet inspired me in terms of my writing--I remember one short story where it figured prominently, and I know that I comet imagery worked it's way into my poems.

And now we have Neowise.  It's a pandemic year, but so was 1986--a different pandemic, AIDS, but one nonetheless.  It's a year of cloudy bleakness--I'm not surprised that I can't see the comet, but I'll keep trying.

I will try to write the short story this week-end, while I have inspiration and enthusiasm.  I won't say too much about my plans now--I don't want to write so much about what I plan to write that I take all the air out of the balloon of this ida.

I am so thrilled to have an idea for a short story.  As for many people, the past few months have felt arid for me, in terms of my poetry and fiction writing.  I'm glad to feel some seeds of ideas starting to sprout.