I saw a shooting star last night.
It fell across the backdrop of a pitch-black sky, speckled with stars and a bright crescent moon, outside McDonald’s after practice. My stomach hurt from laughing, my heart was permeated with deep love for my teammates, and my eyes were filled with awe.
I honestly forgot shooting stars existed in real life. They feel like a figment of movies and books. Therefore, I was essentially in shock. The three of us standing outside the car were all starstruck.
I don’t know much about shooting stars, but I do know that you’re supposed to wish on them, and a quick Google search has informed me that they are actually meteors.
For just a moment, my mind was blank. I was half-caught up in the beauty of such a rare occurrence, and half-caught in trying to remember if you wish on shooting stars, or if I’m thinking of something else, or if you just watch them fall through the sky, wistfully.
I saw this shooting star, and I didn’t know what to wish for.
I could have wished for money, or fame, or an infinite supply of lemonade, but none of that came to mind as I gazed into the night, literally starry-eyed.
If I had thought a little harder, a little quicker, I could’ve wished to get into a certain college, or for that infinite supply of lemonade I was talking about, or some other selfish thing.
I think I knew deep down I was supposed to wish, but I couldn’t find it in me.
Because the secret truth that I keep close to my chest is that I’m happy. And admitting I’m happy is hard, but being sad all the time is way harder.
It’s March, so I’m bound to have an abundance of bad days. This year, the bad days seem to be worse than normal. Yet I feel like, underneath all of the terrible happenings here and there, what remains is the good.
The goodness I feel after a really good hit at practice, or a sunrise on the way to school, or a perfectly made strawberry lemonade, or any social event, or when I get into bed most nights.
The goodness I feel while scream-singing with my friends, or laughing in the back of my Spanish class, or when I dream ahead to spring break, or look back on the year.
The goodness I feel after an incredibly long day, in a McDonald’s parking lot, with some of my closest friends, tired beyond belief yet perfectly content, on the way home to my warm bed.
The goodness that remains no matter what, the deep gratitude I try to practice more often, and the willingness to keep on going again and again, winter season after winter season, with the knowledge that the spring will bring it back to the surface.
