Look in all directions and you’ll see skies playing host to all manner of cloud formations—huge billowing clouds rising up to the roof of the sky, mackerel clouds, clouds scudding across the horizon, dark menacing clouds that augur an abrupt change in the weather, even the wispy pink and soft blue clouds which hover like angels long after sunset.  This is just a taste of what heaven might be. Welcome to Wyoming!

In the earliest part of the day, when even the antelope remain somnolent and huddling together for warmth on the open range, hours before the unimpeded rays of the sun fall upon the land, I have convinced myself an experience awaits me—something even more majestic than sunrise or sunset.

It’s a voice from my past, recalling something so emotive that it’s become part of my being .  The house is still as I throw on pants, socks and shoes, grab a jacket.  Before leaving the warmth of this Cheyenne home I grin at the stuffed coyote sharing my space in the living room—an animal which appears in its lifelike state and keeps the guests and house animals off balance. 

It’s the chill of the Plains I feel first as I emerge from the sliding glass doors. The fleece jacket will serve just fine.  Only one small light bulb on the side of the house burns; it is the solitary form of illumination for miles.

I’m excited and craving this treat. I crane my neck to look up at the night sky and become dizzy.  So dizzy that I’m on the verge of toppling over.  I gasp a cloud of frost then steady myself to see the sky awash in stars, planets and cosmic dust.  It’s been many years since I’ve seen such a sight–years ago when I awoke my twin daughters on a camping trip to the Channel Islands and shared this miracle vision of the heavens. 

I am back at it but this time alone, with a lugubrious chill that seems appropriate for the occasion.  My heartbeat slows as I search out old friends, iconic constellations—the Big Dipper sliding toward the horizon, Orion the Hunter and his telltale belt of stars, Las Tres Marias, even the more distant Pleiades star cluster known as the “Seven Sisters” shimmers, resolute in casting their light on me after a journey of more than 400 light years.  These constellations have remained in their righteous place in the sky since I was child…they’ll be there long after I’m gone.

I walk out the gravel driveway onto the inky tarmac road which awaits my long strides.  Each step takes me further and further away from the house plunging me into an ever increasing darkness, causing the night sky to become more and more resplendent. My first reflex is to utter, “Wow!” as my aching neck swivels to take in the Milky Way, then to reflexively exclaim, “My God!’’ Only a deity could put these celestial jewels in motion like this. 

Is it the chill of the night or the emotions bubbling outward and upward that cause my eyes to tear up?  I’ve never been more alone or happy in these moments.  My thoughts revert to childhood, to a winter visit to the Hayden Planetarium with my father and younger brother.  I can still remember returning home under the Brooklyn street lights past the brick rowhouses and bare trees, clutching our newly purchased star charts.  We pepper my father with so many questions about the stars and planets that he must surely grow weary.  We manage to find his large hands and make it home together—the three of us. 

In these moments, I feel the loss of parents. Years ago they woke us children in the middle of the night at a New England cottage so we could marvel at a sky replete with stars. It tugs at my heart to recall it. I am forever that child. Forever grateful to have shared that moment with them.

In the darkness, looking up toward this blizzard of stars, I concede I am now an orphan in the universe, humbled by my own insignificance.  Yet, I do have one final role to play–I am witness to what the ancients once saw, can validate the mesmerizing effect of the night sky, its vastness and grandeur.  I will pass on this great mystery to our grandson.

It’s time to turn around and head back up the road to the house, the IPhone flashlight leading the way.  In a few hours there will be a sunrise unlike any other. If I can just regain a few hours of sleep, I might arrange to treat myself to the night skies one more time.