The Eclipse Journey: Totality Worth It 

In August 2017 I persuaded my mom, who at the time saw no reason that I should miss a day of SAT boot camp, to let me accompany my cousins on their trip to Hopkinsville, Kentucky to view the solar eclipse — a town that had one of the longest durations of totality. Lucky for her, the experience quite literally helped me get into college — I ended up writing about it in my Common App personal statement. 

Before I witnessed this incredible phenomenon for the first time, I had read many online articles and heard detailed recounts of my eclipse-chasing uncle and aunt’s previous journeys to the centerline. Yet, I was not fully prepared for what I experienced. 

The bright and sunny afternoon sky began to dim in the hour leading up to totality. Looking in our glasses at the sun, the moon — appearing as a dark circle — began to cover more and more of the star above until it appeared to be almost completely gone. 

In the crowded field where we stood, the eclipse-watchers around us began to count down. Way in the distance, I saw something. A giant shadow appeared to be rolling across the fields and over the hills in the distance — and it was coming towards us. I honestly thought the world might be ending. 

“10, 9, 8..,” I really began to panic as the shadow was practically over us. “3, 2, 1…,” I removed my glasses and peered at the sun that was no longer shining. Everyone cheered around me. I can still hear my aunt exclaim, “Holy mackerel!” It began to feel like a cool summer night instead of a hot summer day instantly. The crickets started to chirp, dogs barked — some even fell asleep. 

It took me a moment to comprehend what I was looking at. The “ring of fire” in the sky, caused by the sun’s corona streaming out around the moon that covered it, was a magnificent spectacle, to say the least. I looked towards the sky and wondered what exists beyond me — beyond us. How is this possible? Is this even real? 

I thought about the humans that existed before us who found themselves experiencing what I was, but I had no idea what or why this was happening. I still often wonder about it. 

When I looked around me, I could see light in the horizon, but it wasn’t a sunrise or sunset. I was looking at daylight which was miles away from where I was outside the line of totality. I realized how lucky I was to be in the centerline and to not witness only a partial eclipse — leading me to tell my family and friends back home, who merely saw the moon covering part of the sun through their glasses, that they experienced nothing in comparison. 

The few minutes of totality quickly passed, and the crowd began counting down again. Soon enough, a bright spot of sunlight poked out around the moon. This is what is often called the “diamond ring effect,” and it’s understandable why it has that name. At that point, our glasses had to go back on. Slowly, more of the sun shone, and the moon eventually stopped blocking it. Once it was over, I had to comprehend and debrief what I just experienced in this random field in Kentucky. 

I think that a difficult part of witnessing a total solar eclipse is that life keeps moving as if seemingly nothing ever happened. The sun shines bright again, animals wake up, crickets stop chirping, and the shadow can no longer be seen. I had to live the rest of my day as if all that I witnessed didn’t just happen right before my own eyes. Despite the uncomfortableness, I knew my first eclipse was not going to be my last. 

I have to rely mostly on my memory to remember everything about it. No film or photos can capture totality. However, my aunt was clever enough to set up a camera that was pointed at us and some of the crowd reacting to everything as it happened. This is by far the greatest way to relive it and capture the emotions we all felt during those moments. If I had any eclipse “tip,” it is to set up a camera the same way and not waste the totality’s short duration attempting to take photos of the sky above you. 

The total eclipse experience was impactful on my life in many ways. For me, the eclipse was more than the minutes that the sun was completely blocked — it was the journey to an unknown place, the strangers that I stood around with for hours getting to know as the sky dimmed, and the total out-of-body moment once the shadow came over us. Imagining what exists beyond our planet pushed me to rethink some of my own perspectives. 

I once read there are more universal stars than grains of sand on our Earth; I am not naive to think there isn’t another “Goldilocks” planet somewhere where conditions are just right for some beings to exist. Whether they look like us — I just cannot say. But I live my life as someone who believes in something more — and from that acknowledgement I feel compelled to live life with curiosity, intent, and optimism. 

As fate would have it, I ended up a student at St. Lawrence University almost seven years later in the path of totality for the 2024 eclipse —an event I’ve had somewhat of an advent calendar planned for years prior to when it happens on Monday. It’s crazy to me that the day is nearly here and almost as crazy that all my friends and classmates are about to share an experience like the one I had in Kentucky, a day I will never forget. 

It’s time to get excited. We won’t have another chance to see another total solar eclipse in the United States until 2044, following its occurrence Monday. See you there!