The hot humid air of late July felt like a blanket as I set up my telescope on the back deck. Being the perfectionist that I was, I had to double and then triple check everything. My case of lenses sat opened on the patio table, the little pieces of glass glinting in the last few rays of the setting sun. As I made my final selection and screwed it into place, I began to hear the soft buzzing of the mosquitoes waking up, looking for their next meal. As I looked up, I could see the evening star, the planet Venus, start to slowly appear. I began my measurements of the sky to make sure that I wouldn’t miss it. Not this time.

I scrambled inside to grab a blanket and my notebook. Spraying myself with enough bug spray, I darted outside and sprawled myself out on the deck and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. As the last of the oranges faded into pinks and purples, the sky melted painstakingly into a dark violet. The birds that frequented our yard daily retired to their nests until only the sounds of the frogs and crickets were left. The wind whistled through the trees and a few stray clouds blotched out the freckled sky. Slowly the stars moved and the night deepened. Soon it would be time for the blood moon. Soon.

Even when I was lying on my back it wasn't a perfect view. The deck was too hard and the roof of the house blocked part of my view. Tonight was supposed to be the best blood moon of the century, and I wasn't even going to see it start. I needed a better perspective. I looked around, and then it clicked. The roof.

It was a bit tricky getting my blankets, notebook, and of course my telescope on to the roof, but I did it. The wind tickled my face as I leaned back against the alcove above my window, and I studied the night sky. The big dipper slowly rose in the west while the little dipper led the way. Pegasus and Hercules were in the southern sky and slightly to the northeast of me was the moon, the outer edges starting to turn crimson.

I watched as the moon began to bleed, first in the lower right corner, then slowly forming a small half crescent. It seemed like an eternity for even a quarter of it to turn a dark crimson. The crickets were at a forte in their symphony, the sound almost deafening in the otherwise silent night. An occasional bat would come by and grab a stray mosquito, and the moths began to flock towards the LED light of my telescope. The moon continued to bleed, and I couldn't help but wonder if anybody else was out there. Watching. Waiting. Listening.

As I sat there watching the last slivers of moon turn red, the world around me went silent. The crickets ceased their songs, the wind stopped, and the frogs from the nearby pond were silent. It was as if they all were watching the blood moon fill the night.

It was red. So unbelievably red that one would think the moon to be actually bleeding. Maybe it was. How many people had actually taken the time to watch it on one of its most brilliant displays?

This was the moment that I fell deeply in love with the night sky. It was stunning tonight. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, but I couldn’t justify looking at it now. Soft pinpricks of light split through the dark blue of the night, and they formed a map. Of course, many of the stars I was seeing were already dead; burnt out hundreds of years ago but they were so far away from earth, it took for their light this long to reach us. And for it would last for a while, but eventually, it would fade.

I stared at it long and hard, trying to remember every shade as it slowly began to heal. The dark reds turned into lighter pinks, and then eventually into soft oranges and yellows. When it had finally healed, the songs of the night returned, and the world seemed to breathe again with a new vigor to it.

Eventually, my eyes began to betray me, and the moon began to slowly descend to the west. The wet smell of dew was overwhelming and made the drowsiness worse. I made my journey back down onto the deck and inside the house. When I was inside my room, I began the tedious task of unscrewing all the tiny little lenses that were required to make my telescope work. It is truly amazing how tiny little mirrors can bring objects millions of miles away into greater perspective.