The field was mine but the sky had rearranged itself

I'm standing in the field behind my childhood house and it's pitch dark, which hasn't been true in thirty years, but when I look up the constellations are all slightly off — Orion's belt is tilted like someone bumped the table, and there's a faint comet nobody's named. I keep trying to point it out to someone but my hands are full of lenses that won't focus.