Melinda Hardin - Uneclipsed: About Shadows, Emerging, and Finding the Light

Uneclipsed

About Shadows, Emerging, and Finding the Light

melinda hardin

Copyright 2022 Melinda Hardin

All rights reserved.

Published in association with Per Capita Publishing, a division of Content Capital.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the copyright holder.

Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure that the information in this book was correct at press time, the author and publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause.

ISBN 13: 978-1-954020-20-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 13: 978-1-954020-21-4 (Ebook)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Hardin, Melinda, author.

Title: Uneclipsed / Melinda Hardin

Description: First Edition | Texas: Per Capita Publishing (2022)

Identifiers: LCCN 2022903032 (print)

First Edition

Uneclipsed

For my girls, Celia and Annie.

Table of Contents

I m an astronaut.

In middle school, I watched the movie The Right Stuff a dozen timesand thats a serious two-VHS, three-plus hour kind of commitment that spans fifteen years of history about the space program. I went to Space Camp in Huntsville, Alabama, and its sophomore camp, Space Academy, the following year. I spent six months saving for a bomber jacket from Wilsons Leather at Oxmoor Mall to emulate the great Chuck Yeager, my test-pilot hero who was the first person to break the sound barrier in a plane. I dreamed of going to the Air Force Academy and had pictures of F-16 fighter planes in my young teenage bedroom peppered among my posters of Jon Bon Jovi and Cory Haim. My heart was set on being an astronaut. I dreamed of a life lifting off into the universe and living among the stars as I explored the Milky Way and all her planets. I was absolutely positive I would one day see the far side of the moon. Just certain of it.

That is, until I took algebra. Even with all the extra help my teacher Ms. Morgan gave me, I was struggling. She would lean over my shoulder, and her raspy smokers voice would hint at what my next steps should be, but Id still end up in tears, completely defeated. Math literally did not compute for me.

Same with science. I loved the idea of discovery and was curious about the physical and natural world, but I realized I was more enamored with its wonder. At that age, figuring everything out about what Id seen, unearthed with such fascination, almost took the fun out of it for me. I realized I just wanted to gaze up at the stars and dream about the cosmic dance more than I wanted to dissect frogs or sort through the study of systems. All that time Id spent imagining a life in the celestial spaces, and now I was grounded by the reality that, well, it just wasnt going to happen. Sure, I could have hired tutors and worked endlessly on equations and laws of constant composition, but I suppose I realized I just didnt want it badly enough. So, while the science-savvy students were taking chemistry and the math-minded kids were taking trigonometry, I was playing office aid and helping with the freshman chorus.

Eventually, I took those plane posters down from my wall and stopped telling people my leather jacket was in homage to a pilot many of them had never heard of. (That announcement was kind of awkward anyway, so that was probably for the best.) Still, I kept his autograph in a keepsake box and teed up that helluva long movie a time or two more. My days of hoping for a NASA career were behind me.

But Im still an astronaut, and Ive spent a long time out in space, looking for the far side of the moon.

I got here honestly. My intense connection to the cosmos never left me in all my Space Camp, bomber jacket early ambitions. I have always felt most held by God out in the open air. Nothing is hidden or well-known out in the great expanse. And I cant help but marvel at it all.

But.

Ive spent long seasons out at the edge, looking back at how I thought life on Earth was supposed to be for me. Ive hovered above the bustle of life, longing to engage in it all and hesitant to risk exposure. And Ive lingered for seasons in the radio silence on the far side, when events, people, hurt, anxiety, and all the rest have sent me scrambling to hide where the noise of messy life cant get through.

Heres the thing. The majesty of the universe can seem preferable to the conversely majestic entanglement of people and life. When astronauts live in space for even just a short while, their muscles atrophy from working considerably less. When they leave the skies to re-engage with the literal weight of the world, they have to acclimate to what those of us down here have been steadily managing. Its the same when we allow ourselves to live in the clouds, detaching from the call of fully living. At the time, it can seem as though staying eclipsed might be far easier than re-engaging in the breakneck pace and inevitable pains of life earthside. But that is where our stories live. And along with the chaos, there is the joy and beauty and awe of us. When I came back into radio contact," I had to hone the small voice within me. Through its cues, I began to strengthen the muscles of discernment and self-reliance, realize and face the forces that kept me sequestered. It was difficult at first, but I had stayed hidden for long enough. At some point, the idea of dimming down my own destiny to live in the shadows seemed more daunting than being fully known.

Hurry, Mama!! Were not gonna make it! urges the voice beside me. I have to almost lift my right hip off the worn-out gray upholstery of the trucks bench seat to give it gas. The handle to adjust the seat is broken, so any repositioning has to be done manually. Sweat is beading on my forehead and trailing down under the nose of my knock-off sunglasses. The two sets of cheeks to my right are flushed from both the hot August day and their apprehension over whether well get there on time. Their matching strawberry blonde ponytails jostle up and down as I careen down the road. I give my leg another stretch to punch the pedal, and the girls cheer me on as we pass a slower passenger before the two lanes merge to one.

Their chant of Beat-that-car! Beat-that-car! is both encouraging and insistent. They scan the sky for clues. Will we be too late? I clasp the shaky steering wheel and go in full tilt, grateful that the rocks ricocheted by the tires will go unnoticed on the sides of this old beater. Before I can even get the dashboard gear shift into park, the girls bolt out, open the front door of our friends house, tear through the kitchen, and race to the back yard to where all the others are eagerly waiting.

I search through my cream canvas bag to grab the picnic blanket and safety gear the teachers had passed out to the kids before early release from school. I help my youngest get hers on and make sure the oldest is all set too. Check. All the adults are glued to their phones and giving updates from the tracking app, so we know when its coming. One mom looks up and shouts, Okay!! YES! Its about to start!!