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The moon has just started to pass across the sun when Jude asks if we can go for a walk. I pocket our eclipse glasses and follow him down the bike path, stopping occasionally to check the progress of the moon. The sky doesn’t really darken from our vantage point, but the air cools. We can feel the partially obscured sun.
I pull out my phone and turn to national eclipse coverage which moves through the major cities in the path of totality. I listen as journalists take off their glasses and take in the sight. Each one of them makes some kind of reference to his or her own smallness in the vastness of the universe. Each one pauses at some point—clearly aware that his or her words weren’t actually needed to add any meaning to the moment. Each one notes the joy of bearing witness to something so spectacular in the presence of others.
Jude and I make a square, and on our westbound road, we pass a group people standing next to a car on the side of the road—their covered eyes to the sky. Two people walk toward them, down the hill from their apartment complex. I wonder if they know each other or if they’re just drawn together by the moment. We keep walking, and I notice that a group of three construction workers is taking turns sharing a single pair of eclipse glasses. I wonder which one of them thought to bring them to the job site that morning. I wonder what they are saying to each other—what the moment, even on this small scale, makes them feel.
I tune back into my phone as totality hits Cleveland, and a memory surfaces in my mind: It was 2016. The Cavs had just won the NBA championship, so Jake and I loaded up the girls and went to the parade with the rest of the city. The shared happiness was palpable that day. We’re all here for the same reason, I kept thinking from our spot on the road. Today, we’re all on the same team.
Jude and I turn north, and I notice the air is warmer. The sky is resetting. A car with an Iowa Hawkeyes license plate passes us, and I feel the whiplash of emotions that came with this season of women’s basketball season. Excitement. Delight. Surprise. Sadness. I think about the messages I got from friends all across the country the previous day. We are watching, they said. Everyone was invested here.
By the time Jude and I get home, the solar eclipse is a thing of the past, and I find myself suddenly making travel plans for 2045.
I never really thought much about solar eclipses before today, but what I do think about quite a lot is the power of collective joy. We are the best versions of ourselves when we let things bring us together, don’t you think?
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Yes! This is EXACTLY how I felt, listening in as the news covered totality in each new city in the path. That sense of togetherness must have been incredible in those places!
Loved this, Molly. It was such a special day. I’m still not over it. 🥹