In the wee hours of May 24, I fought sleep to witness the promised “epic” meteor shower over North America. The predictions were sensationalized news: hundreds (maybe even thousands) of meteors would blaze across the night sky each hour for two hours. Problem was, in the Central U.S. time zone where I live, it was supposed to start around 1 a.m. I was losing steam well before midnight.
But I was determined to see this. I love watching the sky. Sunrises, sunsets, the full moon, storms, clouds shaped like funny things. I wanted to see this rare astronomical wonder. So I stayed up. In the end, the meteor shower didn’t happen. Meteors happened (reportedly), but nowhere near the skyworks promised or to the volume to justify the “shower” label. How disappointing.
But what was lost? It was a clear, mild night in the Midwest. The stars were suspended in the perfectly still and quiet night sky. I was alone, relaxed, anticipating something wonderful to happen. Waiting for the wrong thing.