A personal voyage through the Cosmos

Here’s a sentence I didn’t think I’d ever write - after watching the final episode of Cosmos last night, I went to bed and cried. I cried not just because the series is over, although I enjoyed it and will greatly miss it, but also because of what it’s meant to me these past few Sunday evenings. When Cosmos premiered back in March I was still living in the apartment in Troy, and since then, between all the tumult of packing, talking to the bank, closing on the house, moving, and all the work we’ve done on the house since, Cosmos and Neil deGrasse Tyson have been there every Sunday. I will freely admit that I get overly nostalgic about some things and I do not handle change well. Even though the distance between the apartment and the house is a whopping 13 miles at times it’s felt like a whole nother world. I’m a creature of habit and everything about that was turned on its head - different route to work, different routes for running, different restaurants, different schedule, and I couldn't find any of my stuff because it was still mostly in boxes. Through the transition I knew that every Sunday I could escape for an hour, that Cosmos would take me back to a place where I didn’t have to worry about things changing. It was one of the few things about my weekly schedule that stayed the same after we moved, and it was a science-themed beacon around which I tried to restructure things in my new surroundings.

Now it’s over and I’m still sad but it’s probably for the best. The transition period is coming to an end. The floors are done, pieces of furniture are starting to take their respective places, and I finally feel like I’m organized enough to where I know where (most) everything is in the house. Change can be scary, but at least I know I can make it through the coming Sunday nights without crying. Thanks, Mr. Tyson.