It was early June.

The sandpipers had already migrated, and the laughing gulls were long gone.

Spring was over, and it was the edge of hurricane season.

Pair of photos from Dry Tortugas National Park, one showing Fort Jefferson, and one showing an tent lit from within, both under starry skies

From left: A view of the Milky Way over Fort Jefferson, in the Dry Tortugas; camping outside Fort Jefferson.Credit:From left: Tim Cooper/National Parks at Night; Matt A. Claiborne/Shutterstock

I had come to this place seeking something like closure.

My father was the one who told me about the Dry Tortugas.

In between tales of heroes and mythological creatures, Dad would talk about pirates.

Aerial view of Fort Jefferson and the waters of Dry Tortugas National park, with sailboats on the water

Endless blue surrounds Fort Jefferson, the largest all-masonry fort in the Western Hemisphere.Varina C/Shutterstock

My father was a Black man who had reached the limits corporate America put on his ambitions.

Snorkeling is different from my watersport of choice:diving, which requires complete immersion.

I panicked at regular intervals, spitting, sputtering, and apologizing profusely.

Pair of wildlife photos from Dry Tortugas National Park, one showing a crocodile at night, and one showing pelicans

From left: An American crocodile near Garden Key; white pelicans on a sandbar in the Dry Tortugas.Lee Rentz/Alamy

Holly would pause and wait for me to regroup.

I resisted the urge to struggle.

I spotted crabs and spiny lobsters, then a large goliath grouper.

I left the water with a new sense of stillness.

Endangered loggerhead, hawksbill, and green turtles still make their home in the national park.

I was in search of something else: the night sky.

Ancient watchers scanned the stars for patterns, a way to make sense of the world.

When evening came, I told Holly about my plan and the reason behind it.

She asked if I wanted company.

Its something that happens every 18 years; the last time it happened was in 2004.

Lee Rentz/Alamy

We set our alarms, promising to rendezvous at the picnic table with a telescope and binoculars.

Each time the sky was stunning and strange.

I spied the International Space Station and the Hubble Space Telescope.

The stars receded, and sunrise, with its hints of pink and blue, began to break.

I sat by the sea and listened to the water lapping at the posts under the dock house.

In the distance, I could see the lighthouse on Loggerhead Key, the largest of the Dry Tortugas.

After a while, I returned to my campsite to pack up.

On the ferry back to Key West, the sky and sea were the same shade of blue.