I usually write here of things I've seen. Today I write of something I didn't see. As the shuttle Discovery made its graceful curtain call on D.C. the day before yesterday, I was sitting in my office, preoccupied with matters I thought were more important. It wasn't that I couldn't get away. It was that I didn't. I hadn't known how visible the shuttle would be. Some folks even spied it from the roof of the tallest building on campus.
A few minutes before 11 a.m., Suzanne called: "Mom, I see it. It's flying right over me on 66. Cars are pulling off on the shoulder. It looks like a dolphin on top of a whale." We didn't talk long. I kept imagining how she was gazing at the shuttle, driving the car and talking on the phone at the same time.
Yesterday's paper was full of photographs and quotations. People waited hours to see the spacecraft. It's the end of an era, they said. They imagined all the miles the Discovery had logged, the places it had been. They felt privileged to witness its last flight.
After I took myself to task for missing this spectacle, I tried to think positively. There's no way to go back. So how to move forward? Here's what I came up with: The world is rich and full of possibilities. But it will shrink to a pinhole if I let worries and obligations overwhelm me. The next time I have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I'll take it.
photo courtesy NASA vis Georgetown Law Facebook page