the sweetest star that fell

status check - tired
background ambiance - crickets

i hoped that the clouds would clear enough to see the meteor shower at its peak tonight, but it was not to be. the cloud cover obstructed my view of the shooting stars and my tired eyes were playing tricks on me, creating specks of light on the clouds that i believed to be meteors until i noticed they were present when i looked to the back yard as well.

for some reason, i wanted to recall precisely how i felt while watching the meteor shower junior or senior year - but i was unable to recall the sharp details of the experience. i remembered laughing about missing a particular meteor, feeling as if i'd missed the best moment of the night, but i couldn't recall whether it was warm or cold, if there was a breeze - even what time of year it was.

reaching for a faded memory - and grasping at a frayed edge of that memory - that's when you realize you are truly getting old. there are too many memories to keep each one fresh. the more experiences you add to your canon of experience, the less vivid each one can be.

which is why i write. i want to be able to at least read about the details of the moments, even if i can't fully recall them. after tonight's frustration, i searched through my archives and found this:

around 4, a group of 15 of us or so trekked from meg's over to the field across from the east entrance to campus. there was already a sizable crowd gathered there, lying huddled in groups, standing, sitting in lawn chairs. people were offering each other beers, others were smoking--just everyone gathered for relaxation under the stars.the leonids meteor shower was beautiful.

the sky, which was clear all night, had become sprinkled with fluffy clouds, which seemed to glow in the night sky. they were racing by, but the stars seemed to move more than the clouds did. when a meteor burned across the sky, everyone on the field shouted and laughed. some meteors were quick flashes in the corner of my eye, while others burned so bright they left a long trail and glowed there for a second, temorarily burned into my vision.

my mind flashed back to sophomore year, watching phil-dog, christopher, and collin rehearse "picasso at the lapin agile", when picasso (phil-dog) says, "i want to leave a trail, a long string of fire, so bright it leaves an imprint on your mind" or something like that.

initially, i sat by myself, looking up at the stars, but eventually, i found myself keeping warm with baz, liz and phil. i left around 5:15 or so and trudged back to my room, where i fell into the deep, intoxicated sleep that weekends provide, waking up today at 2:30 in the afternoon.

november of senior year. upon this discovery, i felt somewhat comforted.