Each year, in early August, a group of friends old and new gather at a house outside of Lake Geneva to stare up at the sky. The Perseid Meteor Shower is enough of a reason to have a party, no?
We munched on Mexican food, toasted to a newly built deck, and golf-carted our way up the hill to the darkest, highest spot we could find. Our venue for the evening was once a ski resort, the perfect spot for sky-watching.
A cacophony of treefrogs, bugs and birds filled the air as we settled in atop the hill to wait for the "show." I lost count after about the twentieth shooting star. We stayed for just a few hours, but in those moments ... it's hard not to feel something.
At one with the Universe. Holy. Alive. Grateful. You lay there, velvet sky shot through with glittering diamonds hanging low above you, the best of friends surrounding you, and somehow, you feel more like yourself than you've felt for a long time. A star shoots across the sky, leaving a tail behind it for a fraction of a fraction of a second.
You make a wish.
It seems endless, this stream of wishes streaking across the midnight sky.