Today is an anniversary for my previous life, the one that feels like nostalgic gauze across my memory. Thirty years intervening. 

The first picture is a missed opportunity. I wandered down 112 earlier, enjoying the stillness and watching for meteors. For no reason, I turned on Janice and followed the curve around, enjoying the blackness of the unimproved street. I found the owl sitting on this tree. I took a perfect picture of the ground because my timer was on. Fumbling, I turned it off and pointed the phone up. The owl was gone without me having heard its wings. Which meant it most likely dived down silently to the ground nearby. I waited for it to hoot. It didn’t. As I neared the next corner, it announced its presence behind me. 

The other picture captures the moon, framed by one of my light bottles. 

The third picture holds the moon and a massive contrail that had been dissipating for several minutes. I stood in the deep quiet and watched it for several more minutes as it passed in front of the moon, knowing it would create a colorful halo as the millions of little ice crystals received the light.