Sunday, 18 November 2001 | Meteor shower

I felt a gentle shove at about 4:40 a.m., my dad standing in the dim glow of the living room, telling me it's time. I pulled on sweaters over my pajamas, wrapped a scarf around, put on my jacket and glasses and stumbled out of my grandparents' house into the cold West Virginia night. I found my dad standing by his car, his neck craned and eyes pointed upward. Earlier he'd mapped out a place for us to go, a clearing on top of a hill where the light pollution was modest and the sky open. We drove to the spot, the engine cutting through the quiet, sleeping town, and watched as meteors scratched the sky in all directions. No sound except for a distant rooster and our muted whispers...there's one...did you see that? As the sky lightened, we headed back to the car, crept back in the house, and continued dreams and snores, as if the night hadn't been interrupted at all.