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At 12:30a.m. I slipped on my long, almost to the ankles down coat and stepped outside into the very cold night. I had not planned on staying up to view the Geminid meteor shower. The cloudy afternoon sky left over from the first real snow the day before had showed no sign of clearing, but sometime between 5:30 and 9, it did.
The neighborhood was quiet. No cars driving by to crunch the icy streets. Christmas lights from a few houses glowed brightly against white snow-flocked bushes and trees. I remembered childhood Christmases celebrated in this same neighborhood. Our Jewish neighbors had four children. Debbie told me years later that she and Julian stayed up on Christmas Eves and peered down through their second floor window into our living room where Mom and Dad were decorating our tree. She wished for a Christmas tree. I had wished for the eight-day gift giving of Hanukah.
Debbies house now holds a Catholic family with four children and a Christmas tree and lights were still burning into the night. The moon was setting, but my location in an old suburb not far from the citys center is not ideal for meteor watching. The wind began to pick up and I pulled my coats hood over my head, cinching up the cords to tighten it around my head.
If any children were watching now, I thought, I would be the strange old lady in her puffy blue coat who stood out in her driveway late at night looking at the sky. I smiled at the thought, not minding being considered a bit eccentric.
Despite the light pollution, the sky was breathtakingly clear with Orion keeping watch. The majesty of such a view always puts me in prayer mode, and I stood long, mindful or existing in the Presence of the Creator. Mindful, too, of my tiny part in the cosmos. Cold feet broke into my reflections, and I wished I had taken time to put on my warm winter boots. I would not be able to stand much more in my thin-soled ankle boots. Happily, I didnt have to.
A shooting star streaked across the sky, then another and another. I thought of my sky-gazing friend who had come over earlier that day for a late lunch, and wondered if she were watching from her home beneath a very dark country sky. Another meteor flashed by. I stood a while longer, then content to have taken time to witness a small part of the wonder of living on a planet that moves through space scattered with asteroids and planets and stars.
I nodded toward Orion, my guardian, and stepped back into the house. I snuggled down beneath my comforter and slid into sleep, knowing the sky above the roof was raining stars down on me.
©2010 Mary van Balen
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