Today as we got out of the car for dance class, Rosie stopped in her seat to ask about a line across the sky. I explained that it was a contrail from an airplane that had recently passed overhead, where exhaust from the hot engines condensed to create a white cloudy trail. "Where's the rocket?" she asked, and I wished for a moment it *had* been a rocket. So soon after the anniversary of the Challenger explosion, I felt a bit wistful about that.
She climbed out of the car and turned to see the rest of the arc of white across the sky. Excitedly, she pointed out it went all the way across. I shared her enthusiasm.
I hope we all retain our ability to marvel at what we see in the skies, all our lives.
I had rushed her out of the house to try to get to her dance class on time, but because of stopping to chat about that contrail and look at it, she was a few minutes late. It was totally worth it.
