Graham has been really ill over the last month. It began with bronchitis, which turned into a lung staphylococcus infection. He collapsed during our visit with the family and was taken to hospital by ambulance for an overnight stay. The infection cleared within two weeks, yet Graham still wheezed and coughed and could not get Air into his lungs.
Once again, he was hospitalized, where he was given Oxygen and ventilizers and other medications. His stay this time lasted for four days...and his doctor suspects his illness is COPD. In a few weeks, he will see a lung specialist for confirmation.
We hope, in this case, his doctor's prediction is wrong, of course.
During all this upheaval, I found I could do very little. I wandered from one thing to another and I was no longer able to voice my thoughts. It was as if I were living in an empty space...a void...where nothing could intrude.
But I discovered something that did intrude, something that is awe-inspiring, miraculous and exciting.
There is a lot of activity in the Skies these days.
I discovered this one night about a month ago when I took Lucky out for his last walk of the day. Each time it is around eight PM and of course, it is very dark around that time. There are no lights of any kind that intrude where I live; flashlights are the order of the day (or night) when Lucky and I venture outside.
I am accustomed to seeing satellites crossing the night Sky, and falling Stars and Meteors. On certain nights, it seems as if the heavenly bodies hang by a thread...it seems as if I could reach out and touch them. The atmosphere is so very clear here; one can see for miles into the deep, black Universe. There have been many nights when I have wished for a telescope for the ability to see farther into the Universe than the human eye ever could.
I am not looking for UFO's the first evening I spot them, as Lucky and I venture outside. I am only looking up, and marvelling at the Stars. To my astonishment, as I stare at a vivid little Star, a tiny round bit zips away from it, sending out an especially bright green flare. It flies South, then West, then back North again...back to its original "Star".
What was that!...I say to Lucky, who perks his ears.
The tiny UFO flew so fast...if I could only describe how fast!
I think my eyes must be tricking me...tiredness and emotional stress over Graham must surely have taken over...
But then the little "bit" zips away again...this time, heading South in a winking, wavering line until it is out of sight. There are one or two flashes of an...electric type of green and pink. I am not sure I have described those unearthly flashes correctly...they were quite unlike anything I've seen before in the night Sky. Even Northern Lights pale in comparison, and are very dissimilar in any case.
I tell Lucky...They must have forgotten their toothbrushes...
For many reasons, that first sighting, and the ones subsequent to these, fill me with a joyful expectancy. I feel as if I have been washed clean and clear throughout, with a loving feathery touch.
I become addicted to watching the Sky, feeling quite out of sorts when it is cloudy. But one night, expecting Snow, I look up in time to see a Cloud light up with that unearthly flash again. This time, the brilliance was of many colours, although it did not have any lasting effects on the Cloud. The Light was there and then it was gone completely.
Another night, it had been Raining. But, right above me, Clouds had parted in a circle, leaving heavy Stars to hang in the void. I was looking North, above our house. I see three tiny UFO's chasing each other, making impossible configurations. Again, they seem to be attached to a larger "Star".
As I stare at the bigger "Star", keeping the little ones in my peripheral vision, I notice it is different from what an ordinary Star might look like. It looks and feels harder. The brilliance of it is digital and static.
As I keep my eyes on the fantastic display above me, there is a flare from the Star, which I feel more than actually see, if that makes any sense. And then, as I watch in complete wonder, I see pulses of some kind of energy wash slowly away from the Star, towards the protective ring of Cloud cover.
I can find nothing anywhere that tells me what those slow pulses might have been. They were slower and more precise than those a pebble dropped into a pond might have made, but very similar.
I watched three emanate from the "Star", before I became aware of how cold I was. Lucky, who had become quite excited as the pulses washed over us from above, had been at the door for awhile. The neighbourhood Dogs, who had began to bark and howl, when the first pulse appeared, had quietened, seeming to accept the consequent pulses or rings of muted light.
I decided to go in and warm up. Later, I went outside again, unable to resist. The circle of Cloud was still there. I watched for awhile, seeing nothing, but just as I was about to go in, the burst of Light occurred again...and again, there were the rings emanating from the "Star".
I wondered if those strange, intermittent pulses would continue all night.
The incredible activity in the mysterious Sky has stopped. It has been at least two weeks since I saw the last strange Lights. I feel rather bereft...
I'm grateful for my time with these tinkling, teeny Lights in the night Sky. They took my mind off the daily stress I was experiencing with Graham's illness. Strangely, they gave me hope.
Look up on a clear Night and study the Stars. Watch for the ones that move...