The Big Bang: the only plausible idea that cosmogonists can come up with for the start of everything, a dizzying explosion that eventually spurred the creation of our galaxy and Earth. And although the only clue that it had ever happened is the continuous expansion of the universe, too far and too grand for my humble, little telescope to see, I hoped to catch a glimpse of that black, starry expanse tonight. Tonight, Halley’s Comet finished its 75 year orbit through space. Tonight, it would pass by Earth, illuminating the sky like a smoking ball of ice. Tonight, I finally realized why glad my father had bought this shabby house out in the country, away from the millions of streetlights and blaring car horns; it was the ideal spot to see the comet perfectly.

11:32. There was still approximately thirty minutes before the comet shot through the sky, but I didn’t want to waste any of this perfect night. Grabbing a cardigan off the floor and wedging my feet into a pair of navy blue flip-flops, I slowly crept down the stairs, being careful to avoid all the spots that moaned loudly whenever any sort of weight was put of them. Dad, scrawled across the couch, was snoring softly. I didn’t want to wake him just yet.

As I opened the door, a cool breeze raced up to greet me. I stood there, one hand gripping the doorknob, the other by my side, and breathed in the fresh country air. Smiling, I dashed out, the tall, dew-covered grass swaying against my ankles, until I was at the top of my favorite star-gazing hill; I flopped back, allowing the star-speckled night to dominate my vision.

Suddenly my phone chimed in my pocket, a shrill tone that shattered the calm and serenity, and I whipped it out with an annoyed huff. Gabriel Smith. Of course. “Gabe, what do you want?”

“I-I—” I heard him stutter on the other side, his already high-pitched eleven-year-old voice rising even higher, before he took in a deep breath. “You’re outside, aren’t you? I mean, you’re always outside when the stars are out, and with this comet thing…I was wondering if I could join you?”

I sighed. I didn’t really want him here, but I wasn’t about to tell my eleven-year-old admirer “no”. “Sure.”

11:40. I probably had a good five minutes before Gabe found me, so I spent them tracing my favorite constellations in the sky, spouting out as many as I could remember. I heard the grass part as someone made their way up the hill, slipping and grunting, and the next thing I knew, Gabe’s shaggy blond head was all I could see. I sat up and let a small smile cross my face. “Hello Gabe.”

“Hi Marie.” Even though the night was dark, with the moonlight I could see Gabe’s pale cheeks turn a fiery red the moment my name escaped his lips. He removed his thick, round glasses and polished them on the edge of his Superman shirt, caving in on himself like a collapsible chair. I didn’t know how to deal with nervous, smitten pre-teen boys but I did know how I wanted to pass the time. I fell back into the grass and motioned for him to do the same.

“Want to see the constellations?” I asked him, and he nodded eagerly. I took his small hand in mine; much like John Nash had done with his soon-to-be wife’s in A Beautiful Mind, and pointed it to the twinkling stars up above. Cradled beside the moon was the easiest one to spot and I went to that one first: out and down for the handle, then around to make a little box for the spoon. “That one’s the Little Dipper. Do you see it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do! Do it again! Please?”

“Okay. This one is Ursa Minor.”

I didn’t know how long we were like that, slowly running through the shapes that constantly danced before my eyes, but I enjoyed it, and I knew he did too. His wide grin never left his face, and as I looked down at him, laughing to myself as he begged for another, then another, I saw that his blue eyes, hidden behind a veil of unkempt golden hair, were as bright and shiny as the stars that dotted the skyline.

“That was fun, wasn’t it, Marie? We should do that again sometime, right?” Hands now balled into his brown cargo pants, Gabriel turned his head towards me, his cheeks once again a crimson red. His look was so earnest, so hopeful, that I couldn’t have possibly said no even if I wanted to.

I beamed. “Yes, of course, Gabe.”

My dad came out of the house five minutes before the comet was scheduled to appear. I rolled around onto my belly, my chin cradled in my palms, and watched as he locked the door, slipped the key into his trousers, and began tromping through the grass, my telescope strapped to his back. Yawning, he ran a hand through his thinning hair, but when he opened his eyes again, he spotted Gabriel and me at the top of the hill. He smiled, waved, clambered up the hill, all with the dexterity of a middle-aged man who was still groggy with sleep. I met him half way, grabbed his arm, and helped him the last few steps.

“Gabriel, my boy, are you ready for this twice-in-your-lifetime experience?” Dad pulled the telescope out of its bag, and together we set it up, aimed it at the sky, and focused it. “I trust that Marie has told you everything you need to know about the comet.”

“Yes, sir. She showed me the constellations, too!”

A waiting game ensued, one in which we stretched across the grass like lazy cats and followed every darting shape with our eyes. 12:17. Where was it? My heart hammered against my ribcage and I muttered the names of each major star under my breath in hopes of calming it. Then I saw it. Far away, a dark ball shot through the sky, its tail a marvelous, breath-taking blue. Halley’s Comet. I knew Dad and Gabe were probably peering into the telescope, observing it as closely as two aspiring astrologists dared, but I couldn’t bring myself to move, to breathe, to do anything except stare.

My father had discovered this world of stars, planets, galaxies, and the universe when I was very young, and since then, the prospect of witnessing this was almost unimaginable. He has been psyching me up for this one precious moment for years, and now that it was here, I didn’t want to miss even a second of it. It was more beautiful than I thought it would be. I knew I would cherish this moment forever.