Six AM Thirstda was approaching. We were flying north.
I told my wife, “I’m closing my eyes for a minute.” The Neurons piggybacked into the morning mental music stream with “Dream Weaver” but it didn’t keep.
Neither did keeping my eyes closed. I read for a while, drank coffee, ate the cookies the airline provided.
Funny, getting those cookies. Hundreds of dollars were paid for these seats. This attendant comes along and bends down with a tray and asks, like we’re children, “Would you like a cookie?”
Oh, yes, please!
Descent into SeaTac was been announced. The eastern sky faced me. Molten orange was knifing through the space between a dark stiletto of clouds and the horizon. Then, left – north – a white slice hooked my vision.
Shooting star!
I probably felt the same excitement distant forerunners felt when they looked into a dark sky and saw that quick slash of silvery light. Euphoria jumped me. I felt, yeah, that’s a good sign. A good omen.
I share all that with my wife.
She nodded. “I’m jealous.”
I smiled. A shooting star.
That’s better than a rainbow, in my book.
Michael Seidel, writer 
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