A couple of weeks ago, the Captain had a bad cough. He woke up in the night and couldn’t go back to sleep.
He called for us and I stumbled sleepily to his room, eyes blurry, still not really awake. He asked me if I would take him outside, to breathe the night air. It’s something we’ve tried once or twice when he’s had bad croup, but it’s been a few years since we carried a toddler Captain out to the porch at night, wrapped in a blanket.
At first I refused. It’s the middle of the night, I said. It never helps anyway. I’m too tired. It’s cold.
He didn’t fuss or complain or whine, only sadly rolled over to the wall, and that was actually worse. I felt guilty and I was fully awake now, so I caved in.
We went downstairs and I wrapped him in a blanket. I stood inside the sliding door and pushed him out to sit on the back patio.
But when I saw him looking up in astonishment, I had to come outside too. It was cool, but not cold – a sweet, pleasant night with just a hint of breeze, the last breath of summer.
The sky was amazing. We huddled together and excitedly whispered to each other, pointing out the things we saw. Thousands of stars – almost never visible in the city sky, and I can’t explain why we could see so many more than usual that night. The moon, big and full; two planets, Jupiter and Venus, we guessed. Can you find the Big Dipper? Do you see Orion’s Belt?
Then, wonder of wonders – a shooting star. Hard to believe, but in my 40 years I have never seen one before. He’s only eight and already has one to call his own.
He didn’t take it for granted at all. He knew it was something unusual, something to cherish. The magic of a shooting star will stay with us both for a long, long time.
We were almost sad to have to come in and go to bed. We fell asleep with smiles on our faces. Happy.
This post is part of Brie’s Monday Moments series over at Capital Mom. This week’s theme was Bliss.