Meteoric

I only saw a single shooting star, but given the state of everything these days, that was plenty. 

I’m all about lowered expectations during the pandemic, so I’ll give my experience of this year’s Perseid meteor shower a solid “A-plus;” I made my wish as a glowing ember streaked across the night sky and it came true right then and there, with a perfect evening for a bike ride, a roaring fire, and more of the usual suspects social distancing together than have assembled for months.

As strange as this year has been, the earth still makes its way through the through a debris cloud left behind by the giant comet 109P/Swift-Tuttle right on schedule; the Universe doesn’t care about any turmoil in the human world; gravity keeps on doing its thing and our planet’s elliptical path around our star maintains its yearly routine, one that enables homo sapiens on this third rock from the Sun to gaze upwards on August evenings and be rewarded with a bit of celestial magic that is really just dust on fire.

And if that’s not a metaphor for life, I don’t know what is: what are our petty little existences but energized dust lit up for an instant as we self-immolate in our planet’s atmosphere, right?

Of course, we get to do all sorts of things before we’re extinguished, like relive past versions of ourselves by swinging balls of light around, or amaze our friends and new acquaintances with feats of strength, or just lie on our back allowing eyes to adjust in order to see as much of the vastness as possible in hopes of being surprised by one’s hopes being fulfilled even once.

It’s been what seems a long time since I found myself miles from home and reasonably convoluted at midnight; my bike, though, remembers the way and how it’s done; you just wish upon a falling star and keep on pedaling till your house shows up,