And then suddenly, Appeared before me.

Ever since I was little, I've gazed up.

I remember when I was little, staring through a crack in the curtains when I was supposed to be sleeping and smiling at the stars on Orien's Belt. My dad had pointed out star shapes to me, and I loved looking for them.

I remember my great excitement when Halley's Comet was in view, and would watch every night, in awe at the spectacle which was in the sky and no one else seemed particularly bothered about - considering to the naked eye it wasn't moving.

I remember my joy, when one Christmas my husband brought down from the Attic a telescope, so that I could sit and stare out of the attic window for hours on end, in the cold, watching the stars.

I remember one late November, Early December, catching one of the Meteorite showers, and finding a dark place to walk the dog each night so that I could marvel at the lights shooting across the sky.

I remember one early morning walking for my bus at 6 in the morning, and hearing what sounded exactly like something breaking into the atmosphere, and seeing a large flaming ball fall through the sky. I asked a man at the bus stop, if he had seen the amazing thing in the sky. He looked at me, a little wary, and moved away.

I remember camping with Si and the children, in an electric free zone in the Lake District, and all sitting in our camp chairs round the dying embers of the fire, staring up at the sky, and watching satelites speed around the world.

I remember finding that when I drove home at 3 am in the morning, and parked on a hill on the East Coast of Scotland, I could make out the Edge of the Northern lights dancing on the horizon, and humming along with them.

I remember discovering that I could get updates when the Space station was spinning past 54° 4° and I could run out (as long as it was dark, and clear), and watch it's progress over head.

All these amazing things, and yet, the moon, whatever shape, whatever size, never fails to take my breath away.