“The world is full of disaster, and there are many dark places, but there are still many that are fair, and although in every country now love is mixed with sadness, maybe it is getting bigger.” ~ JRR Tolkien
It was my son’s fifteenth birthday. His basketball game was canceled, so my wife, my son, and I got back in the car a little disappointed and started driving home.
We just went home as we always did after the game. My wife was cut in half when something caught my eye before she could finish it. There was an orange glow in the sky.
I hardly said anything. It’s like a plane and I do not want to bother. But something about it is different.
It does not blink. It does not move the way the plane moves, and then it begins to leave a trail, a long path that burns through the dark sky.
I said, “Hey, what is that?” And the three of us looked in the mirror at the same time. It rolled in the sky for a few seconds and then got smaller and disappeared.
We pull out our phone and find out what we already suspect. An asteroid may be a lump of fire. We guessed a lot.
But knowing the word does not change what we feel when we see it across the sky. How each of us calms down at the same time as something in us recognizes it before our thoughts do.
Science can tell you what an object is. It can not tell you why it finds you when it does. We drive on the road, which is mostly quiet, the light still lingers in our hearts.
We went home, lit candles and cut cakes. After our son put out the fire and decided, I wondered what he was hoping for while my wife pulled out old photos. For a minute we were eating something and then we walked around the table looking at pictures we had not seen in years.
There is my 4 year old son, round cheeks, smiling, putting something from the camera. There we were by the sea, we all stared at the sun. We laughed at our haircuts and bathing suits that we thought looked cool at the time.
But under that laughter, there was something else that made it difficult for us to breathe and could not do anything. We tried to counteract that feeling by saying things like “See how small you are” and “I can’t believe it was so long ago.” For a while we sat there for a while without saying anything, each of us looking at the same picture, feeling the same.
How fast did we get here? Where did that time go? You look around your loved ones and the only thing you really want, the stuff under all the greetings and candles is just for everyone.
But none of us knew what the future would hold, and sitting there with the cake on our plate and the meteor still fresh in our memory, I felt the pain of that fact more than usual.
I have been asking questions since that night. Is there meaning in this orange light? Does the universe give us something or is it just a random event?
I do not know. And I unknowingly made peace. All I know is that beauty is everywhere if we pay even the slightest bit of attention.
Seeing an asteroid with your family is something that makes you stop and wonder if there is anything else there. These moments do not declare themselves and do not ask for permission. They just pop up in the middle of the bus.
But on the same drive, you may hear information about people being killed in distant or distant places. You may see an old man sitting alone at a table in a bright window as you walk by and wonder who he is missing. You can hold someone you love and know somewhere inside that you will not always be able to.
The same magical world that gives you the bright light in the sky also brings unexplained misery, sometimes in the same hour, sometimes in the same miles. This is the hardest part I’m going to hold on to. Life is wonderful and scary at the same time.
Most of us have never been taught how to take it. We are taught to fix things to find the silver line to move forward. But some things just ask for recognition.
The meteorites there are both bright and burning in the dark, whether we understand it or not. The divisions in the world are also there. The two are actually on the same night under the same sky.
I don’t think we want to deal with that stress as much as we learn to live inside. To be beautiful without it eliminates the pain. To make grief present without letting it swallow the light.
That is not the solution. It is something that requires more than a solution. It is a habit and some days it is harder than elsewhere.
But I think the only way to live your whole life is to drive home after an evening that does not go as you expected, look and see what is there.
My son was another year old the night we saw an asteroid pass through the sky. We did not prepare it and we did not watch it. We had just driven home from a canceled basketball game and something amazing had arrived.
I do not know what that means. But I know it was there, and I know we saw it together. And I know that the same world that can break your heart can also burn the sky.
About Daniel H. Shapiro
Dr. Daniel H. Shapiro is a speaker, author and mentor. He is obsessed with human relationships and the things we take with us. For more information on his book 5 Practices of TrainersOr his guidance and speech services, please check yourinherentgoodness.com.
