I am, and always have been, a sky gazer. I have been known to peer into the night sky for hours, taking in the bredth and beauty of it all. This drive led to my pursuit of a degree in astrophysics, so I could make sense of it all.
In my thirty years of gazing, there has been one constant: airplanes. My Missouri childhood home was close enough to St. Louis to see quite a bit of traffic. The New Mexico desert skies were less populated, but the planes were there. When I moved to Georgia, I was amazed by the amount of traffic. The first night I spent in a cow pasture watching for meteors, I quickly gave up on the showers to count planes. At one time, I counted fourty planes in my field of view at the same time.
But tonight, for what is likely to be only time in my life, the sky is silent. It is eerie, when you realize what is missing. The silence of jet engines is louder than the scourge of crickets we currently have on the farm. It is eerie.