It is a clear ebony night at the top of the world as I sit in the darkness beneath Orion’s watchful eye, listening to the eclipse.

What does an eclipse sound like, you ask?  Well, the last one we witnessed sounded like our breath crystalizing in the air before our faces and the squeaking of snow beneath our boot clad feet, punctuated with the occasional crack that signifies a hard freeze in the forest.

This one sounds different.  Warmer.  Less lonely.

The dogs have been mad all night, barking and howling ferociously at the ivory orb hung directly over head.  The Mayans aren’t far behind them, piercing the darkness with mortar fire and loud speaker announcements, “Eclipse!  Eclipse!  Starting now!”

The crickets are serenading the moon while Jedi, the dog, adds the washboard of his teeth scraping on the leg bone of a cow he found; likely leftovers from the carniceria in town.  The water lapping the shore, a drum beat. An eclipse is anything but quiet.

I’ve tossed and turned for the last two hours, since our alarm went off on Eastern time instead of Central American time.  Listening.  Thinking.  Dreaming.

A friend pointed out that Druid legend has it that the energy of the earth is magnified during an eclipse.  I don’t know much about the Druids, but certainly the energy of every living thing in this bowl between the volcanos is focused on the moon this morning.

We woke the children.  They huddled in the crisp cool air for a few minutes before Gabe and Elisha retreated to their beds. Hannah and Ezra, sniffling with their southern colds, have their heads tipped towards the heavens, passing the time wishing on shooting stars, making what is sure to be a lifetime memory in the inky darkness.

As for me, I’ve toasted Winter with my Love and am sipping my glass of wine with a cold tipped nose.  I’m thinking of the friends and family around the hemisphere who are with me in this moment, watching the moon slide silently into our shadow.  I’m wishing health and happiness to them all with my whole heart; especially to the baby to be born in a few hours.  A baby who’s birth I’m deeply sad to be missing:  Laura Sonnenwende Caroline… Sonnenwende, German for solstice.

I’m missing you all.  I’m loving you all.  And if moonlight is the fastest way to travel, I’m standing right beside you.  I wish you could hear the Mayan drumbeats and singing that are echoing faintly in the darkness on Lago de Atitlan.