Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Random thoughts about Nick: Shooting stars

One August and another.

Early August, and the Perseid meteor shower swings past the planet again.

Nick and I crept out to one of the Downs, to a wheat field, nearly due the cutting, well over the brow of the hill from the city glare.

Gradually our eyes began to get used to the night sky, and then flickers at the edge of vision, fugitive glitters which seemed sure to be – nothing, just eyes playing tricks – intensified, brightened, and resolved themselves into long striations of light passing over us, here, then there.

Finally a speck of light appeared, grew brighter, bigger, closer, hurtling towards us, and instantly winked out. We both jumped, blinked, shook our heads.

I swear we could feel the star grit in our eyes.

Later, as we got up to go, collecting the rugs, Nick looked at the imprint we’d left in the field, which I’ve no doubt has been extra fertile ever since.

“Ahah! A crop oblong!”

‘Shooting stars,’ became a code between us – a secret password.

Now the Perseids are passing  by us once again, on their ineffable journey, as I head south to see him off  on his.

Shooting stars.

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