As I sat on the beach, the sun slowly rising over the ocean, six kids running in circles around me, I couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

This winter, in between relentless snowstorms, my sister had recommended that we take a chance and try to see the Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope launch at the end of August. Her high school best friend works as an operations research scientist and was deeply involved in the development and operation of Roman, so it felt like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

The only catch was there’s a six-second window each day when they can clear the launch. If you miss it, the launch moves to the next day. Between the unpredictable weather of Florida’s hurricane season and technical issues, the launch could happen anytime between the target date of August 30th and mid-October.

Regardless, we booked our tickets, crossed our fingers, and began planning.

The one thing we did not do: tell the kids about the launch.

Knowing the uncertainty of the launch would be too much for them to handle, and a missed launch would cause at least three vacation-ruining meltdowns, we planned a Florida adventure that could stand alone. We filled it with all the things we love: environmental centers, cool beaches, sea turtle rehabilitation centers, and favorite restaurants.

Since we were staying about two and a half hours south of Cape Canaveral, we also booked tickets to Kennedy Space Center, figuring that even if we missed the launch, at least they’d see a rocket.

When the time finally arrived, after tracking the weather for weeks, we set off for Florida, unsure of what the week would hold.

Now, the launch had been cleared.

The beach, which had been dark and empty when we arrived at 5 a.m., had filled with people of all ages, from a nursing newborn to seniors being helped across the sand by their children and grandchildren.

All of us were listening to the NASA countdown, cameras ready.

The sun, now inches above the horizon, shone in the corner of our eyes as a bright ball of fire surprised us, streaking through the blue sky just west of where we had actually been looking.

As it hurtled toward space, toward answers about the universe and life as we know it, the kids jumped up and down.

We took blurry pictures.

And I cried.

I was overcome by the improbability of it all.

Of a space telescope that can see the very edges of the known universe and help us understand the things beyond what can be seen.

Of living in a world where a rocket booster can kiss the edge of Earth's atmosphere and then return back down, upright, perfectly settling onto a landing pad.

Of the fact that we were actually here witnessing all of this during the 48 hours that we were in town.

When I first started thinking about this post, I had no clue how it would end.

This could have easily been a story about having backup plans when you travel with kids. It could have been a story about unpredictable weather during travel. It could have been a story about what to tell your kids and what to keep as a surprise.

But today, it was a story about all the stars aligning.

As the sonic booms shook me out of my reverie, I blinked away the tears, turned and smiled for one last group picture, packed up the bag, and led us off the beach toward NASA’s Kennedy Space Center.

We were still going to see their rocket.