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The Perseids

“Come see falling stars.” Mother had a thick quilt over her arm. I followed her down the hall and out the back door. “Lie down,” she said. “And look up.” I felt tufts of grass lumpy under my back. Above was an expanse of deep blue-black and pinpricks of light. My mind raced out. The dots began to streak, to arch down like small flares of a firework. “It's the Perseid meteors,” Mother said. “They hit the atmosphere and burn. Do you hear them shriek and whistle, or do they tumble silent as snow?” Harder and harder it rained light.

Catherine Vance teaches writing in Houston, Texas. She has an MFA from Washington University in St. Louis and is working on a memoir. Find Catherine at www.catherinevance.com and on Instagram @bluemtns2sea.

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