Chapter 10 - Under the Silver Dust
The winter of June's sophomore year at MIT was one of the coldest on record in New England.
At the Wallace Astrophysics Observatory in Westford, Massachusetts, the massive 24-inch optical telescope was pointed toward a clear, freezing midnight sky.
Inside the heated control room, June Ellison sat before a bank of high-resolution imaging monitors, analyzing real-time spectrographic data from a lunar survey initiative funded by NASA.
Beside her sat Taryn, wrapped in a warm wool sweater, drinking tea from a thermos.
On the main central monitor, high-definition digital imagery of the lunar surface flared into view.
The camera zoomed in close—closer than June's old Celestron Omni XLT could ever reach—focusing on a wide, smooth plain ringed by towering basaltic mountains.
The Mare Serenitatis. The Sea of Serenity.
The high-resolution digital sensors captured the vast, ancient plains of dark volcanic dust, sparkling faintly under the stark, unfiltered light of the sun like millions of crushed diamonds.
June reached out and touched the glass screen gently with her fingertips.
"Look, Mom," June whispered softly. "Silver dust."
Taryn leaned over her daughter's shoulder, looking at the screen, and then wrapped her arms around June's neck, kissing her hair.
"It was always there, Junebug," Taryn whispered. "We just needed someone to help us look past the clouds."
Outside the observatory dome, high above the quiet pine forests of Massachusetts and the distant, glowing skyline of Boston, the moon hung clear, silent, and brilliant in the dark.
And down on Earth, in every city, town, and small school gym where a child stood waiting in the dark, the list was finally complete.
Every package accounted for.
May you like
Every child counted.
Every promise fulfilled.
