The annual Perseid meteor shower is underway but I won’t be watching this year. I’m away from home (and too surrounded by city lights) to get a glimpse of the magic. It’s probably a good thing as my dark Irish side kicks up and I go into a full “have a pint, dear” funk.
I didn’t know it at the time, but the last time my parents came to Gloucester for a visit was during the Perseid meteor shower of about 1998. We had friends who were members of a local beach club so we were able to troop down to the beach with a hibachi, wine, dessert and sand chairs to make a perfect evening in a perfect setting even more….perfect. We had a marvelous supper, topped off by peach pie made by my mother from peaches picked in our own backyard. Dad was the official peach peeler (he’s a hound dog for peach pie) and Mom could whip up a pie so effortlessly it was all done in a blink. I can still remember the setting in vivid detail, but I can’t conjure up the taste of Mom’s peach pie. It’s been too long and while my own peach pies are pretty good (from good DNA) they aren’t hers. They aren’t from peaches in our own backyard, they weren’t peeled with love by my Dad, and ….. well, you get the idea. We watched the sun set and the stars come out, the moon rose perfectly between the twin lighthouses of Thatcher Island, and the meteors began. It was an experience we all talked about for years to come – but especially during the annual event.
I woke up this morning and listened to the news about the meteor shower. I got a little weepy – I’m up here for the Lowell Quilt Festival and I thought about how perfect it would be for my quilt-making mother to come out for the show, see me working at a museum of quilts, and then go home and enjoy the meteor shower. Some things aren’t meant to be – but at least I know Mom has a fabulous view of the Perseids, and that helps.