As some of you may know, the planet earth passes through a meteor belt every August, giving rise to the Perseid meteor shower.  The first time I saw it in 1981, I wasn’t expecting it.  I was walking down 57^th Street in Chicago’s Hyde Park on my way to a mid-August dinner party and saw several meteors streaking across the sky.  It was a wondrous, serendipitous sight to see.

This year, we were warned that because the moon was full, it would be harder to see them on Friday night – when they were predicted to be at their peak.  Nevertheless, at 3:30am on Saturday morning, I headed outside to see what I could see, having promised the kids that if there was any activity I would wake them and bring them outside.

The moon was indeed very bright, but was starting to slide to the southwest, leaving the northeast corner of the sky somewhat darker.  To add drama to the wait, a great horned owl was calling from a nearby fir tree.

It was fairly cold that early in the morning, and I was eager to see something – or not – so I could go inside.

So I waited.  Then I waited some more.

I decided to use an old technique from my city-dwelling days when trying to decide between a bus or a cab.  I picked a number – in this case 100 – and said to myself if I don’t see anything by the time I’m done counting, I’ll go back to sleep.

I got up to 85, focusing on each consecutive number and anticipating going back upstairs to bed. Then I saw one.  And then another, streaking across the still-dark eastern sky.

A promise is a promise, so I headed upstairs and woke each one of the kids, thinking that perhaps they’d prefer to stay in bed, but they each sleepily got up and followed me downstairs.

So there we stood, listening to the owl and wondering if we’d see any more shooting stars.  We chatted for a while, shivering a little against the cold and waiting.  And then we saw one, two and three.  They streaked overhead, silently and so quickly that you wonder if you were imagining them.  But all four of us saw them, and agreed that it was worth the wait.

I’ve been waiting a long time for Mary Elizabeth to show some significant signs of improvement, and as you all know I’ve been discouraged now and then at her rate of progress, or at my own stamina and ability to stay positive.   Sometimes, I’m rewarded with a particularly good day, or a substantive conversation, or an experience that feels a lot like the “old days.”

But as I stood outside on Friday night, listening to the owl and watching the deep blue night sky fringed all the way around by tall trees, I realized that whether or not the meteors showed up, I still enjoyed the waiting.

So I need to enjoy the wait a little more – because let’s face it – we may have to wait a while before improvement or acceptance comes.  But there are so many small pleasures along the way which we can’t ignore and for which we can certainly be more thankful than we are.

So were the stars worth the wait?  They surely were, but the wait wasn’t so bad either.