PHOTO: Sky & Telescope / Dennis Di Cicco
I stayed up late last night and set my alarm for 3am this morning to watch the Perseid meteor shower, and, as Alan MacRobert of Sky & Telescope wrote in his blog, even in a big city, I was not disappointed. I stood in the driveway, leaned against the garage, and eventually laid uncomfortably on the wooden bench swing to watch brilliant bits of debris left by the Swift-Tuttle comet in years past streak through the sky. Mac Roberts blog said that some filaments left by the comet centuries ago 441 and 1479 might come into play this night. My mind reels at the thought.
I remembered times spent with my family and parents, sitting in field on a friends property south of town, wrapped in blankets and marveling at the show. Early this morning I wondered at the meteors silence, how they glowed and disappeared with no fanfare. What else is like that, I asked my sleepy brain.
Flowers open and close silently, as least to human ears. Plants growing, leaves letting go of branches in the fall. Celestial events happen without a sound: The sun painting the sky at dawn and later defining the moon with light brilliant enough to light up the night even indirectly bouncing off our natural satellite. Closer to home, I thought, cells divide and old cells die inside my body; my hair has turned gray without warning. My pupils make no sound as they open wide or narrow down as light conditions change.
As my mental list of amazing events grew, I became drowsy and decided I had better return for some sleep before heading off to work. Reluctantly, I lifted my body from the swing and took one last look at the sky.
Grace, I thought. Grace slips into the soul without a sound.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
Speak Your Mind