Starry-Eyed Surprise

I have always had a fascination with the nighttime sky. There is nothing I love more than sitting outside on summer nights just admiring the moon and the stars. It is serene and I feel like I am at peace with the world. Most of the time I just slip out the back door of my house and go watch the stars in solitude. My mom always jokes that I’m part werewolf, because I like watching the moon so much. Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, if the moon is out, I open up my window and just admire the sky in all of its beauty. I have found that I’m sitting out watching the sky, it is a very opportune time for deep thinking. Conversations under the moonlight are usually of a philosophical nature; talking about deep thoughts, ponderings, dreams for the future, etc. It is hard for me to be upset when I’m outside.


Anyway, with all of that in mind, it would be easy for one to imagine why I was so excited last summer when my neighbor Debra invited my family & me to go watch the Perseid’s meteor shower in the cemetery by our houses. I was thrilled to go, and, of course, I had a fantastic time! Now to fast-forward to this year. I was looking forward to the meteor watching party so, so much. After what seemed like a long time of waiting for my mom to head over to Debra’s house, we finally went over there. When we got there, everyone was already in the backyard on blankets and lawn chairs, just watching and waiting for “the big one”. My mom and I were greeted by Debra and Brendan, who was pretty thrilled just to be out there in general (it was entirely past his bed time, apparently). The first little while we were out there, Brendan was talking to my mom & me, in his animated 3-year-old fashion. It was quite lovely, indeed. He even serenaded us with a rousing rendition of the Alphabet Song (too cute!) We had bells to ring whenever we saw a meteor; however, for a while we were also ringing for satellites and airplanes because of the lack of meteors. Everyone settled in, and we began talking about anything and everything. It was a very peaceful evening, or so we thought it would be. I’ll admit for a while it was so peaceful that I happened to nod off for a few moments. There was a slight breeze, enough to make it comfortably cool outside. Crickets could be heard chirping in the distance. Every so often, you could hear the relaxing sound of the creek flowing. There was also a soft rustling in some greenery. But what could have been making that rustling noise? Everyone figured that it was the cat. Until one of the other girls that was there (her name escapes me at the moment) commented that she was holding the cat. So that meant...(cue the dramatic music)…it was an ARMADILLO! As I have mentioned before, I’m not much of an animal person, especially such a feral creature as an armadillo. I was unnerved to say the least. We then left the armadillo to its own devices, assuming that it would go back to rooting around. Suddenly, we heard another noise, and turned our flashlights back on just to see the armadillo, ever so stealthily approaching my side of the blanket. I got up. I may or may not have let off a blood-curdling shriek that could’ve possibly woken up everyone in the tri-county area. I also may have stepped on my mom’s foot in the process. Everyone was overcome with laughter at my sudden panic, and also with a sudden invigoration. (It was around 12:30 in the morning, after all) Our peaceful evening suddenly turned into a bit of chaos. Debra, ever so diplomatically, declared that we should go inside. She didn’t have to tell me twice. While everyone was folding their blankets, there was recurring laughter about the scene I inadvertently caused, also the phantom armadillo sighting. I felt bad. I really did. Especially when the girl who was holding the cat, was upset by having to go inside “all because of an armadillo”. Debra offered me some homemade vanilla ice cream to assuage the situation. I can never say no to ice cream, especially homemade…it just doesn’t get much better than that! We all decided that this story would go down in history, and would be told at every future meteor-watching party. I’ll admit, I can (and do) laugh about it now. And I also apologize for causing a disturbance to the peace.