Grandma Hazel was 100 years old when Hale-Bopp streaked across the silent night sky at thousands of miles per second. For 4,000 years it had burned its way through the Milky Way, out of our sight.

When I realized I could see it through the back door, I asked Grandma to come look. She complied, more to please me, I suspect, than to see one more sight in a lifetime of looking. I pointed and described its position, but she hadn’t the gumption to lift her eyes. Maybe she was already out there, flying among the fire and ice.