Now that I am older, I think that I understand, at least partially. There is truly something beautiful and magical to the night sky. Not saying that there isn't any beauty to the day-time sky, but this is different. In the wee hours, by oneself, watching the sky fills you with a sense of potential and freedom. It is as if you are the only one for miles and miles, even in the thick of the suburbs. Like nothing and no one can touch you. Like the moon is there sharing that time with you. It makes you feel like you can do something, be somebody. For Walter, I think that was it. A cobbled motley of others, for that time he just was like everyone else. Just a little speck in the universe, but at the same time special in his own way. It was an escape from feeling out of place, from being stared at when we went out in public. I like to think that while he was at the sanctuary, even with others like himself, he found the time and happiness lying outside watching the moon. In one of his letters he said that the moon and the sky were different there, bigger and broader. The lack of the light pollution made it easier to watch. He sounded happy and it made me feel a little better about having to leave him there.