Stargazing (In the Category of Want What You Have)

You guys! You guys! You guys! (You can tell I'm a military brat because I said it three times.) I saw a shooting star!

I made a wish.

You can probably guess what it was.

I've star-gazed my entire life. As a child, awake when I was supposed to be asleep, in the backseat of the family VW sedan (white, with red vinyl interior), the moon and I locked eyes, and she followed me home.

I know the stars in my backyard, or at least I thought I did. But then I got in the hot tub tonight, to soak my bones and cry.

You can probably guess why.

Finally, the clouds moved out, and the stars! The stars! No moon tonight, but the stars! 

Thing is, this is my first winter with a hot tub. Until this year, my stargazing  had been confined to spring, summer and fall — firefly nights spent with friends under a black, velvet canvas of a sky. Until tonight, I never had a chance to fully gaze at the winter sky. It's glorious! The Pleiades transect the sky from east to west just above my roof line. I love the Seven Sisters. They replenish my soul.

Mars rose late tonight. Orion's belt followed. As I gazed at the Pleiades, I saw it! You guys! A shooting star! 

I sit outside for all the popular meteor showers: the Persieds, the Leonids. I envy my stargazing companions as they point and exclaim, "I saw one! Did you see that?"

My answer is usually, "no."

 Tonight, all alone in my swirling cauldron of relaxation, one streaked out of the cluster of the Seven Sisters, heading west and south. I reveled in all two seconds of its glory.

I wept with joy.

I made a wish.