It's just a little past midnight...
a brand new day ticked into place while I was outside,
standing along side my son,
watching shooting star,
after shooting star,
after shooting star.
... and remembering how many nights like tonight, I wrapped a little one in a big warm blanket
and giggled our way into a yard,
or a field
or a pasture,
to look up and behold the night sky.
Tonight, I stood there with a grown man
and we each made wishes...
in some respects, little difference...
mother and son, in full appreciation of the beauty of the firmament...
watching little streaking lights as they burn away.
In some respects, quite a lot of difference...
where I would have, twenty years ago, had to bounce him from one hip to the other,
little monkey arms and legs hanging on tight,
standing there with little boy breath against my cheek,
waiting to get so cold that one of us began to shake before turning for the lights of the house,
warm and beckoning.
I made him promise me that should he have little ones someday, that he will wrap them up and carry them out that they too should see and know the night sky.
And he agreed that he would... and then we began to shiver... and we turned and came in
surrounded by the lights in the inky blackness on our way back to the warmth.