Geminid Meteor Shower

We stood on the porch and watched the sky, she and I. Tonight was the last meteor shower of the year, and Ally was determined to finally see a shooting star. Every time we stood watching the sky, someone else would see one, but not her. She had never see one. In California we had been driving down the road and everyone in the car saw the bus sized asteroid that flew by in the night sky, but not Ally. Somehow she missed it and is still reliving the disappointment.

We walked a few steps out into the yard. It was cold. 

We argued about where we thought the little dipper was. It got quiet. 

I thought back to the night we had had our Lunar Hot Chocolate while we waited for the eclipse of the moon so many years ago. (Lunar Hot Chocolate) So much has changed. My little girl, who was twelve then, is seventeen now, on the verge of high school graduation. A young adult. I can't for the life of me figure out when this happened. 

Or how it happened so fast. Just yesterday she was playing with her Build a Bears, now forgotten in the bottom of the closet. Today she is talking about the Canterbury Tales and college. I can't get over it. 

I look at the night sky. I hope she sees a shooting star. We wait a while. There! Now I'm happy" she says. She is not ready yet to go in. Soon she sees another and another. We linger there, out on the sidewalk, searching the heavens for flashes of light, and speculating about which are planets and which are just stars. 

My feet and toes are cold. But I won't be the first to call it off. I will wait until she is satisfied. Until she is done. Apparently ten is the magic number. We get to nine and then we wait. And wait. And wait. For twenty minutes we wait for number ten to shoot across the brilliant night sky. 

We talk about that long ago Lunar Hot Chocolate. We are both wishing we had some tonight.  The wind has picked up and the heavens are still holding back number ten. 

Then finally, she sees it. THERE. She points into the vast space above our heads at a light that is already long gone. 

I am so happy tonight. Happy to be here. Happy to be watching the stars with her. Happy to be listening as she dictates her Christmas list to me. Happy to be contemplating a midnight run to Wal Mart with her for absolutely no reason whatsoever. 

When I wrote Lunar Hot Chocolate in 2010, I couldn't imagine what it would be like in 2014, when the next Lunar eclipse would happen. Now 2014 is just a memory. All the things I wondered about  have come to pass. My babies are leaving me.
I'm not going to be sad about it, though. It's enough to just be here right now. To breathe deep the cold air. To look at the brilliant stars with my daughter, and make the most of the time we have. To forget about the unimportant, rejoice in the Now and not worry about the What Will Be for a while. It's more than enough.