The Night the Sky Fell

Charlotte

When Charlotte was 11 years old, she met a boy named Jimmy by the lake. Jimmy had blond hair and blue eyes, and a smile that was as bright as the sun. He was carrying a stick with a fishing line and a hook attached to it. It was not a fishing rod, as those were expensive, for the families who owned the boats docked by the larger lake over in town. The big lake people lived here year round, had winterized homes and generators for the months where the entire town was buried underneath three feet of snow. The people at Smoke Rise Campground were mostly summer people, but not the kind who rented the fancy houses in town with king sized beds and jacuzzis in the yard. Charlotte and her family were the kind of summer people who stayed in the log cabins up the road with dormitory style beds on the second floor and a rope swing tied to the trees out back.

They had been at the campground for over a week (evidenced by her suntan and the collection of bug bites on her legs) but this was the first time she had seen Jimmy and his fishing stick.

He flashed that glowing smile and offered her the homemade fishing rod. 

“I can do the worm if you want,” he said.

Charlotte wanted to protest, say that she was perfectly capable of baiting her own hook. Worms didn’t bother her, nor the mushy lake bottom, or the spider webs in the corners of the bathroom. Charlotte wasn’t one of those kind of girls. But Jimmy’s chest was puffed up all proud which made Charlotte smile. So she let him put a worm on the hook and she let him show her how to wade into the water holding the fishing line in her hand and then toss it out into the lake, even though these were things her father had already taught her years ago. And when she caught a fish, a tiny little thing, not even as big as her hand, Jimmy cheered and gave her a hug and Charlotte was thrilled. 

Charlotte smiled at the memory as she zipped up her backpack. Her son, Jackson, reminded her a bit of Jimmy. Jackson was 6 years old with bushy brown hair and dark brown eyes, and a fierce love of all things wiggly and slimy. Most of the kids at the park wanted to run, climb, speed down the slide face first, see who could jump off of the highest swing. Jackson liked all those things fine, but his favorite activity was crawling through the bushes in search of bugs or caterpillars, or digging underneath the dirt after a rainstorm to find the earthworms that were hiding there. 

Jackson was the only member of her family that was excited about this trip, albeit not for the meteor shower. But the potential of a “real lake” with fish and frogs and maybe even a turtle (!) was enough to have him bouncing up and down on his toes, pleading “Can we go now mommy? Are we leaving soon? Can we go right to the lake when we get there?”

At least someone was excited. Michael had kept up a never-ending stream of complaints and questions ever since she had told him about the weekend. Did the cabin have hot water (usually yes, although it didn’t last very long so it was best to take very fast showers). Did the windows have screens? (Yes, officially all the windows were covered. As to the condition of the screens, one could only hope for the best.) Were the beds comfortable? Charlotte didn’t answer that one, although there were plenty of things she could have said. Starting with, it was a log cabin in the woods not the Four Seasons. Or, yes they were fine, exactly like the cots the preschool teachers put out at nap time. But instead she had smiled serenely and went back to describing the meteor shower. “Hundreds of them! Shooting across the sky! Did I mention the sky? There is no light pollution up there! On clear nights you can actually see the Milky Way!”

Michael had frowned at that. “But the cabin has lights right?” 

At least he was speaking to her. The same could not be said for her 13 year old daughter who had refused to pack or even come out of her room all morning. 

It was only a 5 hour drive to the campground. They could all go five hours without killing each other couldn’t they?

Charlotte sighed and went into the kitchen to pour herself some more coffee.

Meagan

Even over the hum of the music in her AirPods, Maegan could hear her mother in the kitchen, the bang of the cabinet doors, the sound of coffee pouring. Normally she found these typical morning noises cozy and familiar, not unlike the comforter she wrapped herself in every night. But not today. Today they were simply reminders of why she was so mad at her mother.

Tasha had understood why Maegan was missing her party. All of her other friends got it too, they had shared a collective groan of sympathy, why were parents so annoying. Naomi had even offered to let Maegan stay at her house all weekend but Maegan knew there was no point in even asking.

“Its this meteor shower thing this weekend. My mom is all excited. Something about reliving her childhood at some old creepy campsite upstate.”

The truth was that the meteor shower actually sounded like it would be a cool thing to see, just not this weekend, not the weekend of Tasha’s 13th birthday. 

Maegan rolled over in bed with a sigh, wrapping the blanket around her like a cape. She knew it was only a matter of time before her mom knocked on the door. She hadn’t even packed yet. If she didn’t get up soon her mom would just throw some clothes in a bag and who knows what she would bring? Not that it mattered what Maegan wore. No one was going to see her in the woods. No one important, anyway.

Maegan closed her eyes, her mind briefly conjuring up an image of a cute country boy with faded jeans and dirty boots. She pictured this imaginary kid reaching for her hand, while pointing up at a sky filled with thousands of stars.

But that was all a fantasy of course. The only boy that was going to hold her hand on this trip was her little brother, and there probably would be a frog in it.

Maegan heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on, which meant she could stay in bed with her music a bit longer. She thought she might pack her favorite jeans anyway, the ones she would have worn to the party that night. Who cares if there was no one to see them?

Michael

Michael eyed the packing list on his phone one more time, before zipping up his suitcase. He was pretty sure he had thought of everything, but it never hurt to check again just in case. After all, there wasn’t a 24 hour Duane Reade in the mountains that he could just pop in to if he needed an Advil or some Tums, or some extra toilet paper. 

When he felt satisfied that everything was in order, he left his bag on the bed and went into the kitchen. His wife was sitting at the table wrapped in a towel, a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. She smiled up at him when he entered.

“All set?”

He nodded. She had left another mug on the counter, which he rinsed for a minute in the sink before filling it with his own coffee.

“We should leave within the hour,” Charlotte said. “Beat the morning rush hour.”

Michael took the carton of milk out of the fridge, sniffed it just in case, and then poured some into his mug.

“You want to tell Meg that or should I?”

His wife sighed. 

“I’ll do it after I get dressed,” she replied. “After all, I’m the one she’s mad at.”

Michael had nothing to say to that. He was not surprised that their 13 year old daughter did not want to spend the weekend in a dirty cabin in the woods staring at the sky instead of with her friends. While he sipped his coffee, he made a mental note to double check that he had packed the bug spray (he was almost positive he had but you could never be too careful). The last thing he wanted was to go home with a million mosquito bites. Or Lyme disease. Or, god forbid some brand new blood borne illness. 

Charlotte placed her cup in the sink headed towards their bedroom. Michael rinsed it twice, put it in the dishwasher, wiped off the sink with a paper towel. He then sat back down with his coffee.

He knew that he could have flat out refused to go on this trip. He wasn’t 13 years old, or 6 for that matter. But Michael also knew all about his wife’s childhood camping trips: swimming in the lake, roasting marshmallows on long sticks discovered on the ground, staring up at the vast expanse of constellations while her father pointed out their names. He also knew that the Perseid meteor shower occurred every August, and that this summer was supposed to be the most spectacular one ever. 

Michael hated bugs. He hated all things dirt related. He liked comfortable beds and places with reliable Wifi. He had never been camping, but he would bet a million dollars he probably wasn’t going to be a fan of that either. But he loved his wife and if her dream was to sit by her childhood lake and watch the stars fall, the least he could do was help make it happen.

Charlotte

It was a 5 hour drive to Pottersville, NY. Jackson slept most of the way, waking up only to say he needed to pee and ask if there were any Goldfish crackers. (There were of course, along with all kinds of other snacks. Charlotte was always prepared.) Maegan stuck her AirPods in both ears, turned her music up to full volume and ignored everyone. Michael put on a podcast and drove up the Thruway in the center lane at exactly five miles over the speed limit like he always did, while cars and trucks sped past him on both sides. 

They arrived at the campground early in the afternoon; the sun glowing high above the lake. Jackson bounced up and down in the back seat, pointing at the dragonflies that skimmed the surface of the water, as they made their way slowly up the dirt road that led to the cabins. Theirs was called Eagles Nest, and appropriately looked like it was build from one of Jackson’s Lincoln Log toy sets. Maegan removed her headphones long enough to proclaim it “Horror movie worthy” before dropping her backpack on the living room floor. She then scanned the interior of the house. Her eyes brightened when she noticed a wooden ladder leading up to a loft style sleeping area.

“If anyone needs me, I will be in the creepy loft.”

Michael was also looking around, a nervous expression on his face. He ran his fingertips across the dining room table, examined the pillows on the couch, opened and closed the fridge. Finally he exhaled and went back to the car to unload the rest of the bags. Charlotte considered his lack of comment a win. 

As for her impression, Charlotte thought the place had not changed a bit since she was 11 years old. 

Jackson

Jackson waited patiently (or at least as patiently as a 6 year old could possible wait) while his parents unloaded their suitcases and backpacks from the car, and unpacked two bags of groceries into the fridge. But after the last carton of milk was put away, he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Now? Can we go now??”

His mother smiled at him. She then forced him to stand still while she slathered a pound of white, goopy sunscreen all over his face but that was ok. Sunscreen meant they were finally going to the lake!

His mom sat in a wooden chair on the shore while Jackson splashed around, diving his hands in and out of the mushy lake bottom, wading through the reeds that grew at the waters edge. He giggled as tiny little fish darted back and forth over his toes. But the highlight of the afternoon was when he found the frog. It was brownish green and slimy, with long wiggly legs and it squirmed when he held it in his hands. When he asked if he could bring it back to the house his mom laughed and said, “Why not? Just don’t let your sister see it.”

Charlotte

On the way back to the cabin, Jackson kept up a steady stream of excited chatter: Were there more frogs in the lake? Did she think there might be turtles, or even snakes?? Could he keep the frog in a jar on his dresser at home if he promised to take care of it all by himself? 

For now, Charlotte allowed Jackson to put his frog in a large Tupperware bin that he found in one of the kitchen cabinets and told him that they would talk about the rest later.

She found Michael out behind the house, staring at a large barbecue grill with a frown on his face. 

“That’s an upgrade,” she said. “When I was a kid it just was a campfire with a metal grate thrown on top.”

Michael looked appalled, probably picturing a rusty metal grate and six different kinds of bacteria. 

Charlotte, on the other hand, was thinking about plump cheeseburgers that tasted faintly like smoke, the crackle of the fire. 

“I can cook if you want,” she offered.

Michael shot one last wary glance at the grill before agreeing. 

She cooked burgers on the grill and a pot of Kraft Mac and Cheese on the stovetop, which they ate on the covered porch, while the sun set over the trees. Jackson proclaimed everything “yummy” and even Maegan mumbled a grudging “Thanks for making dinner mom.”

Michael said nothing, but he ate everything on his plate.

Charlotte had told her family that the best time to watch the meteor shower was after midnight, so after a few card games and a quick story, she put Jackson to bed in one of the loft spaces. Maegan climbed into the other one with a book.

Charlotte popped open another beer and joined Michael back out on the porch. 

“Thanks for coming on this trip. I know nature is not really your thing.”

Michael took a long swig of his drink. 

“Its fine,” he said. “Jackson is really excited about the frog.” 

He smiled then, in spite of himself.

“Are we really going to let him bring in back to the city with us?” he asked.

“What are the odds that he forgets about it?”

They met each others eyes then and laughed.

“Zero!” they exclaimed simultaneously. 

A few hours later they woke up Jackson, and Meagan who had dozed off with her book still open across her lap. The four of them made their way back down to the lake, equipped with bug spray, flashlights and a large fuzzy blanket that had been in the trunk of their car. 

Jackson swung his flashlight all around like a laser beam, hoping to see “night animals”, a comment to which Maegan replied “If I see one single night animal I am going right back to the cabin.” 

Michael mumbled something about bats, which Charlotte chose to ignore. The truth was there probably were bats up in the trees but there was no point in telling him that.

They found a spot in the grass right past the shoreline and lay down on the blanket, staring up at the sky. Only a few minutes had passed before suddenly a bright white light streaked across their field of vision. A few seconds later, there was another.

“Did anyone else see that? It was a shooting star! Like for real, like in the movies! Mom did you see it?”

Maegan pointed up at the sky in excitement. “Look! Another one!”

Jackson reached out his hand as if he could catch the light inside it.

Charlotte looked over at Michael, who wrapped his fingers around her own.

“Its pretty great actually”, he said quietly.

“Its freakin awesome!” Maegan exclaimed. “I can’t wait to tell everyone. They have never seen anything like this.”

Charlotte closed her eyes for a second, listening to her family’s excited gasps, the chirping of crickets from the bushes. She remembered lying in this same field with her father many years ago, while he told her to be patient, to just keep watching the sky. 

“Meteor showers come when they want to,” he said. “They like to make you wait. To see if you are going to quit, to go back to bed.” She could still picture he father’s wink. 

“Don’t ever go back to bed.”

She wished her father could have seen this one.

“Mom?”

She opened her eyes to Meagan’s grinning face. 

“Mom, thanks for bringing us here. Its really cool.” 

Charlotte smiled. “You’re welcome honey,” she replied. 

The four of them fell silent then, simply watching the streaks of light dancing in the sky above them.

After a few minutes, Charlotte felt a tiny hand tap her shoulder then and turned to look at her youngest child, waiting to see what he thought of the meteor shower.

“Mom?”

“Yes Jackson? Do you like the shooting stars?”

Jackson nodded impatiently. “Yeah sure, but mom, can I keep the frog?”