Remember That Night


Do you remember that night in 1996? I think it was November, because it was cold outside.  The weatherman on TV… what was his name? Norm, I think. Yes, it was Norm.  He greeted us every morning that week, encouraging us to take advantage of the Leonid Meteor Shower. Do you remember that? We always laughed at his serious tone, the way he took the weather on his own shoulders like he had some control. And those smiley sunshines he drew on the seven day forecast, remember them?

I was more excited than you, about the shooting stars.  I wished on them when I was a little girl and felt myself lucky if I saw even one or two in a summer. The thought of seeing as many as a hundred in a night gave me such hope.  I didn’t want to miss even one. Do you remember rolling your eyes and sighing?  You did, but you went and got the ladder anyway, and leaned it up against the roof over the back porch.

“It’s the flattest part of the roof, the safest,” you said.

We didn’t go out much anymore, not like we did before the kids were born.  We had a hard time staying up past nine o’clock at night.  Remember? We laughed and called each other “old fogies.” Meteor showers shouldn’t begin until after midnight.  I was so excited that I didn’t feel sleepy after the boys were tucked in.  I gathered blankets and pillows for an adventure.

“I think it’s too cloudy,” you said, peering up at the sky from the back door that night. “Are you sure you want to go out there in the cold?”

I came up behind and pushed you out the door, remember? You pushed back, making it hard work for me all the way to the ladder.  I called you ‘chicken’ and made a ‘bock, bock, bock’ noise, remember?  You grabbed the blankets and huffed up the ladder like you were mad. You made me laugh and I followed.

We made a cozy nest up there on the roof. The shingles were a little hard and you said the bed downstairs was much  more comfortable. Remember? It really wasn’t so bad, the feather comforter and our warmth as we waited. I loved snuggling under your left arm with my head on your chest.

I pouted as we watched the clouds drift over the sliver of moon in the sky, remember?

I said, “Norm promised us clear skies.”

You mumbled something about Norm’s track record.

More clouds gathered and we lost interest in the sky, all snuggled up together, under that huge expanse of night.

Look at you, still blushing after all these years. Isn’t it funny how I’m the girl and you’re the one who blushes? Oh now  don’t get mad, it’s endearing. It’s one of the things I love about you.  Your Mama taught you modesty. Mine taught me exhibitionism.

Alright, alright, enough about that. It’s just that when I pulled into the driveway tonight and got out of the car, I saw the stars and remembered that night like it was yesterday.

Now look at you, blushing again.


Remember That Night © 2011 M Dawn Thacker. Read more of M Dawn’s stories and feature articles, click her tag. Look for Edition 9 of soon.

One Response to “Remember That Night”
  1. daigoumee says:

    Nice site, nice and easy on the eyes and great content too.

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