Twice in a Lifetime

As celestial events go, experienc ing a total solar eclipse is hard to beat. In August 2017, my husband, my sister, and I drove to a small town in Tennessee and witnessed a total eclipse of the sun with hundreds of strangers. I will never forget the moment when the moon blocked the entirety of the sun’s face, darkness fell, and the sun’s corona made its grand debut — a fiery halo around our star’s perimeter. The three of us were mesmerized by the spectacle, and like Jodie Foster’s dumbstruck character in the movie, “Contact,” all I could say was, “It’s so beautiful. Beautiful. So beautiful. I had no idea…” That evening, my husband, Gene, sat on the couch beside me with his computer in his lap and said, “There’s another total solar eclipse in spring of 2024. After that, there’s not another one in the United States until 2044, but you and I will be about 80 then, and we may not be able to travel to experience it. I think we should plan to see the one in 2024, and travel to a state where it will be full.” I nodded.

At the time, neither of us could have foreseen that we would eventually discover Gene’s biological family living in Texas near the “Path of Totality,” but that’s what happened. And so in the last few weeks, we’ve made plans to travel to Texas during the first week in April, to be present on April 8, when the Lone Star State will find itself at the heart of this cosmic show. The path of totality, where the moon will completely cover the sun, will pass over cities like Dallas, San Antonio, and Austin, the city where my husband was born 60 years ago.

We will witness this year’s solar spectacle with Gene’s biological mother. She has offered to take us on a roadtrip, of sorts, to tour her hometown — tiny Eagle Lake, Texas. We will visit the cemetery where my husband’s ancestors were laid to rest, and Gene will have an opportunity to place flowers on their graves for the first time in his life. And then we will head to Austin, and Gene and his biological mother will stand together on the steps of the Catholic home where she gave birth to Gene, her first-born son, in 1963. They were there together then — just for a little while — and they will be there together again in just a few weeks. I know the moment will be an emotional one for them, but I think it will end Gene’s decades-long curiosity and bring some closure to the story of his adoption.

And then, together, we will watch the eclipse wearing those goofy, dark, cardboard glasses to protect our eyes from the harmful rays of the sun, and we will be speechless for a few moments and mumble about how beautiful it is — that is, unless it is cloudy that day. Nevertheless, when the sky darkens over Texas on April 8, we will make memories that last a lifetime.

A total solar eclipse is more than just a dazzling sky show; it’s a visceral reminder of our place in the cosmos. Also for us, Gene and I are geeks, and we are so very grateful that we will get to experience such a phenomenon twice in our lifetimes. The sight of the corona, the sun’s mysterious outer atmosphere, glowing around the darkened moon, often prompts profound emotions and a sense of connection with fellow observers. This year, we will have the pleasure of seeing it with Gene’s newly found mother and feeling yet another connection with her — make another memory with her — and that’s priceless.