| Sunny Side Up January16, 2002 � 2001, Kathleen Gibson The night the stars danced At three fifteen a.m. on Nov. 18, 2001, clad in pink flannel donut print pajamas, I was rummaging about in our garage; uprooting our summer paraphernalia from its winter parking zone, looking for my favorite lawn chair�the rocking one. In my grandmother�s day, they�d have said I�d finally �torn my sheets�. Yep, stark, raving mad. But I found the chair�it was behind the white bistro table. My street slept, my husband slept; our cat and dog slept; but I was tingly awake, hauling that chair out to the backyard. No moon, no clouds and no snow�but the stars�.oh my, the stars! They were playing tag in the black pinpricked bowl over the backyard. The astronomers called it the Leonids meteor shower, but they looked awfully like falling stars to me�a long silent shriek, a blazing exclamation mark, a comma with an outrageously long tail. A star dove silently, gloriously, then another and another�too many to count. Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, I hummed, reaching out my hand to the heavens�giving the sheets another rip. I parked in the center of the lawn, winter parka thrown over my pj�s, clogs on my bare feet. I�d just gotten comfortable when I heard the crunch of my son�s studded tires in the driveway, the short grind of his emergency brake. I walked over and stood motionless beside the house, waiting for him to get out of his car. �Anthony.� Six inches of air appeared between his feet and the driveway. His keys jangled to the pavement. � NEVER DO THAT,� he shouted hoarsely,� when he landed, then �WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE?� Calming, he stood beside me. Pegasus was still, the Big Dipper didn�t dip, and Little Bear didn�t blink. Anthony shivered in his hooded sweatshirt, chin pointed at the sky. Five streaks later, he stuttered, �What a night for stars, but I�m too cold!� and disappeared indoors. I moved the green plaid rocking lawn chair onto the patio, an audience of one at the dance of the Leonids, clapping, praising, declaring �Author, Author�, knowing that all the while he was present with me, cheering on his own creation. The rockers made little crunching sounds on the concrete and the wind stirred the bare branches of the willow into a melodious rustle. Overhead a flock of geese honked and flapped their way south. I wondered if they were enjoying the show, if they even noticed. How could anything not notice? How can you sleep, neighbours, while the heavens cavort over your backyard, while God juggles the heavenly bodies? I sat very still, feeling infinitely small. Chicken Little, awed by the certainty that though the sky should indeed fall, God was present still. The next day the sky looked normal, and I was tired. In another few hundred years, if the world still turns, there�ll be another dance of the Leonids. I�ll be watching from the balcony. Please join me. You can respond to this column at [email protected] |
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