These days, when I think about sitting outside at night, I think about getting bitten by mosquitos. That really takes away from a lot of my fun.  

Sometimes I get pretty annoyed at how persnickety I have become.

As a kid, I don’t recall being that worried about mosquitos. Sure, I remember having bites and getting calamine lotion on the more severe bites. Adults warned us about chigger bites on our rear ends if we sat on the grass too long. Those adults were already concerned with all those things, spoiling all the fun.  

Now, I spoil my own fun.

But on cool nights when windows can be open and we can hear the nighttime noises, I think about how we used to spend a lot of time stargazing. After it was too dark to ride bikes or play, neighborhood kids would gather somewhere to just chit-chat until we were called inside, and since our parents and grandparents had pointed out the constellations to us when were younger, we were pretty good at spotting “The Big Dipper” and other well-known figures in the sky. 

It might not sound that exciting, but when a lot of time was spent making your own fun, it was a good way to wind down the day.

One particular summer, there seemed to be a whole lot of stuff going on in the sky.  I’d have to do research to find out the year, but it seemed like that summer had an overabundance of planets showing up in the sky as bright stars, or meteor showers, or falling stars, or lone meteors streaking across the sky.

We’d learned about constellations at school, plus I’d read a book called “Moon Watch Summer.”  The weatherman on our local station always talked about what was going on in the sky and what we’d be able to see that night.  A lot of times, I quietly slipped outside to see for myself.  I remember keeping a little notebook, nerdy as I was, to keep track of what I saw that summer. Like a good little science geek, of which I really wasn’t, I took the notebook to school in the fall to show my science teacher.

It should be noted I don’t like the words “nerd” or “geek” and really have never really liked science that much.

But for some reason, planets and space tripped my trigger. It was one of the first times I remember feeling any type of stress relief.  Just trying to focus on the sky and finding shapes or strange blinking stars made my little kid self forget my little kid worries for a time.

One week, the weatherman was talking about meteor showers, and I slipped out one night to look.  My best friend’s older sister, who often gave us rides to school and took us fishing, was a bit of a tomboy and showed up that particular night. We watched the sky for a long time, and found we had a mutual interest. That week, we’d watch slow-moving and fast-moving blinking lights in the sky, watching long enough to make sure it wasn’t a plane, and marvel at what we were seeing.  

There were times we’d find out about being able to see a planet. We didn’t have a fancy telescope or anything, but I remember bringing a pair of binoculars outside.  

After that, if I was outside looking for something I’d heard about on Channel 14, I’d tap on my stargazing buddy’s window to let her know I saw something up there.  It never occurred to me that I might be disturbing the family in her house, but maybe they knew about our nighttime space walks.

Every now and then, I walk out into my backyard and sit for a time. I can still pretty much release the cares of the day if I listen to the night noises, watch the sky, and take a few deep breaths.

But as soon as the first mosquito discovers me, my nighttime therapy session comes to an abrupt end.