Vernal Equinox


Reasons for the Seasons

Far from being an arbitrary indicator of the changing seasons, March 20 is significant for astronomical reasons. On March 20, 2011, at precisely 7:21 P.M. EDT, the Sun will cross directly over the Earth’s equator. This moment is known as the vernal equinox in the Northern Hemisphere. These brief but monumental moments owe their significance to the 23.4 degree tilt of the Earth’s axis. Because of the tilt, we receive the Sun’s rays most directly in the summer. In the winter, when we are tilted away from the Sun, the rays pass through the atmosphere at a greater slant, bringing lower temperatures. If the Earth rotated on an axis perpendicular to the plane of the Earth’s orbit around the Sun, there would be no variation in day lengths or temperatures throughout the year, and we would not have seasons. (FactMonster.com)

Johnny Angel brought Spring with him when he was born. Just as the vernal equinox ushers in a warm breath of air, so too did this baby angel. His body was plump and healthy with life. Even the colors in the room seemed more vivid. The first sound of his lungs inhaling then screaming into existence shook off any fear I’d had about his health. Before him, I’d miscarried our first child.

The rhythmic bleating from his throat seemed to ask, Where am I from? Where am I going? Where is the music? His fingers outstretched to the sky. Searching, as if invisible piano keys were held there, mid-air, waiting for him to strike a chord. Instantly, I knew him.

I knew him before he was born. The large-eyed cherubic boy was placed on my chest to keep warm. I recognized him instantly. They lay him on the center of me, an eclipse of this angelic child. My eyes met his and succumbed to the chasm of his eyes forever. My boy!

***

His old gray fedora doesn’t match the forest green button down shirt or navy-blue Dickies, but I am grateful that Johnny Angel didn’t put his yellow silk tie on. In a matter of fact tone, he says he would like to write his own music. He’d like a keyboard for his 13th birthday.

“There’s just not enough good Gothic music out there, Mom.”

“Oh really,” I ask.

“Yeah, I mean there’s tons of Emo and Punk stuff, but gah…. I like a more ambient sound. I know just how to make it,” he says fingering the air as if a piano is there, “I’m really good at the keyboard.” I can hear the passion for music beginning to build.

I remembered his birth. His fingers were long for a baby. He had seemed to be clawing the sky as he was born. Perhaps, he’d been playing a tune in Heaven before he became my Earth bound angel.

***

Sneaking into mother’s room is easy. Waking mother up can sometimes be unnerving. He stands in the doorway contemplating how to wake her gently. He wants to hug her and talk about what he’ll like her to make him for breakfast.

Johnny Angel knows to wake her up with a song. He strikes the play button on the CD player near the door, knowing that Donny Hathaway’s “Live Album” will play. His plodding steps towards his sleeping mother are almost silent. He stands at a slant near her bed. He watches her stir before inviting himself into her little arms. His body has long since outgrown the grasp of his mothers arms. She often hugs him and exclaims, “Look at my giant baby! He’s so big, he’s bigger than meee!” It’s true. He is the size of a grown man, and still growing. His already gruff voice is changing to an even deeper tone.

He’s been asked to play football and other sports, but he would rather draw, read comic books, and play music. He hopes he gets a keyboard with lots of bells and whistles for his birthday. If he had a keyboard he could write his own music. When Mom wakes up he will climb into her arms and tell her about the music he wants to make and about the big breakfast he would like her to cook for him. He slides closer to her.

A few bars of music album strike the air. Mother stirs…breathes deep… pushes herself up from the bed. She sees him. She looks right into Johnny’s eyes and smiles broadly before he swings his giant body into her arms. She scoot back, knowing enough to give him a lot of room or risk being smothered.

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