So when I read that the Perseids would be putting on a show starting late last month and peaking on the morning of August 12th, I felt a deep obligation to give the 7-year-old the same experience.
We made our plans, we looked at the calendar and saw that August 11th was a Thursday, and we talked about it being okay to stay up late that night. We even tried to catch some preliminary glimpses on the Fridays and Saturdays leading up to the big night.
She dubbed August 11th "Micaela's Day" because that would be the day that she finally realized her dream of seeing a shooting star.
Waiting out there on our back patio one night last week, she asked me if there was a particular way one was supposed to make a wish on a shooting star (you know, akin to "Star light star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight"). We came up with "Shooting star, shooting star, take my wish from where you are..." as an alternative lead-in.
Each night that we went out there, getting ready for the 11th and hoping for a sneak preview, she'd use her "first star I see tonight" wish to wish for a shooting star. I asked her, "What will your wish be when you do see a shooting star? To see another one?" She thought that was just about the funniest thing she'd ever heard.
In all the lead-up, one shooting star was seen...and that by me. So the 11th gained more and more significance as the time when it would finally happen for her.
Then, as you must know if you live in the GTA, last night turned out to be a cloudy, cloudy night with on-and-off drizzle. I sent her to bed angry and sad after staying up a bit later than usual watching tv and praying that the sky would clear.
Now, what I failed to mention so far is that EVERY SINGLE DAY for the last couple of weeks, I have been sneaking out onto the back patio some time between 4 and 5 am (when I do my daily routine of waking up too early without meaning to) to see if there was anything to see. Aside from some bats, which each morning freaked me out enough to send me back indoors... nothing.
And then today, August 12th at 3:50 am, I opened my eyes and wondered if the skies had cleared yet. I snuck downstairs, peeked out the window, and lo and behold - a few clouds, but mostly stars.
I lay down on one of our gravity chairs to see if there would, indeed, be a show. Within 3 minutes I witnessed the most glorious, clear, slow-moving, shooting star EVER. Decision-time: Do I wake her up or pretend it never happened.
If you know me, you know what I decided. I shook her gently and dragged her out of a deep, deep sleep: "Wanna see your shooting star baby?"
She awoke, leapt out of bed, grabbed my hand, and we made a dash for the patio. I grabbed a couple of blankets and we took our respective places on the gravity chairs.
It was stinking humid but a cool breeze made it bearable.
We waited. And waited. She mumbled a "star light, star bright..." asking once again for a shooting star.
And then it happened. A quick flash, a split-second, and a father-and-daughter gasp.
"Did you see it?!?" I asked her. "I think so, but I forgot to make a wish. Can we wait for another one?"
I heard her quietly reciting "Shooting star, shooting star, take my wish from where you are..." I don't know what she wished for and, of course, she didn't tell me. Maybe one day she will.
As I put her back in bed she whispered "You're the best daddy ever" and gave me a blissful hug.
Wishes granted, both hers and mine.
Knowing us, we'll be out there again tonight to try for one more bit of magic. You should too.
(This image is from the Web, there's no way I'd hide behind a camera at a moment like this).
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