Caffeine for the Soul

Cassiopeia

This cylinder with precisely aligned mirrors is like a magic portal into another universe. I close one eye while I peer through the eyepiece, seeing light that has traveled years to greet me on this summer evening. I still hear Grandpa Will's voice sharing that fact with me as a nine-year-old girl. It has stuck with me for decades. Even though I now have access to the most advanced deep sky observation equipment that research money can buy, I'll occasionally pull out this little telescope to reminisce.

#

"Sweetpea, what's a four letter word for portal?"

My Grandpa was the crossword master. He knew every answer, but I played along. This was our special time together each evening and I savored every moment.

"That one's easy, Grandpa. Door."

"Ah, of course," he'd say.

I sat curled up beside the radio in the living room, certain there was someone inside speaking only to me. Between segments of my favorite show, Starwatch, Grandpa fed me questions I'd be able to answer. I was only nine, but not as naïve as he thought.

Tonight's constellation was Cassiopeia. I was fascinated by the mythology behind stars. Each night, when the program finished, there was time for pajamas and teeth brushing before bedtime. Sometimes, when Grandpa was feeling gracious, he'd let me stay up longer and listen to the start of his favorite jazz show with him. Tonight was one of those lucky nights.

I rotated the tuning dial. I knew exactly where it should've been. Still, there was nothing but static. "No stalling, Sweetpea. It'll only be ten extra minutes no matter how long it takes to find the station."

I'd used this tactic before, but not on this evening. Nudging the illuminated red needle to the right, I tried my best to locate the smooth saxophone sounds. I never found it, but I did recognize what sounded like a voice between the rumbles of static.

"Grandpa, did you hear that?" I remember that excited feeling of discovering something new.

"Hear what?"

"That man, on the radio."

"No, Sweetpea, but my hearing isn't what it used to be. How about we head to the backyard and see if we can find Cassiopeia?"

We spent the remaining five minutes looking at the distinctive W in the night sky. He explained how half of the year it was a W, the other half an M. The way he told the story, I was hooked. Still, I never could shake the memory of that voice.

#

"Ellie, did you find something?" asked Jack, my research colleague across the field.

I panned toward the stars in Cassiopeia, my heart fluttering. The twinkling presented a message in Morse code. My heartbeat accelerated with each letter revealed. S-W-E-E-T-P-E-A.

"No. Cassiopeia is just really interesting tonight."

"Well, let's get back to it. These new galaxies don't discover themselves," he quipped.

"Yes, of course." I smiled before taking one more peek through the telescope. The last twinkle to greet my eyes on that evening was like a wink, from my Grandpa Will and Grandma Margaret, somewhere in the middle of Cassiopeia, a galaxy away, but always next to my heart.