A short piece

There were six people on the beach that night. They were laying on their backs staring up at the sky. Lake Michigan was nearly silent. The only sound from the inland ocean was a soft plopping of the surf that was barely noticeable like the soft breathing of a sleeping cat. There was no wind and temperature was around 72 on this July night. I remember it being what I like to think as a 'the perfect temerature.' The conditions you are thinking of when you refer to room temperature. It was the kind of weather that you could work all day in and not sweat too much yet you could still wear shorts at night. That is July in northern Michigan.

This night has always been fuzzy in my head. I was less than ten years old and we were laying on the beach waiting for shooting stars. I don't know if this was taking place during a regularly scheduled meteor shower or if we just ended up on our backs. I do know the activity was suggested and coordinated by my step-mother's parents. Were the adults drinking? I don't know. All I remember is being half asleep most of the night because it was real late. It doesn't get dark up there in the summer until after ten pm. I am drifting in and out of sleep and occasionally I see a white streak pass among the gazillion of starts that have always blazed just beyond our reach.

Soft spoken announcements emit from each of us. "There's one." "Another one, there!" "Oooh, that was a good one." "I just saw two!"