Ancient Life of the Cosmos (via Jeff Sullivan (www.MyPhotoGuides.com))
And still it seems so unreal. Did it really happen? Is the echo of the gunshot in my head true? Did we run on the packed wet sand along the water and climb through the grasping vines on the dunes to get to the road?
I remember the quiet rushing sound of the tide of Lake Michigan rolling onto the beach. The soft, cool sand as we raced to the dunes where the houses stood above us in the orange glow of the street lamps. My younger sister’s gasping breaths filled with fear and calling to her that it was okay, we were alive, it was all over. I don’t know if I believed it myself. I kept looking west, tricking myself into believing I saw shadows coming towards us.
I remember stopping and looking back towards my mother and my sister, caught between the safety of the road—the flash of headlights and looking for the lightbar on top of the car to see if it was a police cruiser—and the beauty of the blood red moon sitting on the edge of the lake.
Anamarie has a scratch on her face from falling down the hill. It will fade.
And we’ll always remember, we’ll bring it up for the next few years, we’ll talk about the bits and pieces we can recall, forgetting the insignificant moments.
The Perseids were falling in that hothouse August night; I saw two come down together, and I thought it looked about right – Jeffery Foucault
