mistaking planes and satellites for shooting stars

Its a Saturday night, and I am walking along the streets in downtown Santa Cruz. Its at least 20 degrees outside, but the alcohol in my stomach and down my throat are keeping me warm enough. I look up, and the moon is shaped like a perfect circle. Maybe its the alcohol, but I feel like the moon is smiling and winking at me.

Suddenly, I see a red light shoot across the night sky. I have never seen a shooting star in my life, and am suddenly under the pressure of coming up with a perfect wish. In my head, I say "I wish I could honestly say I am happy". Automatically, I feel foolish because of how vague my wishful thinking is. 

It turns out that my shooting star was actually a Boeing 747 headed for the Mineta San Jose Intl. Airport or SFO. If I could, I would make coffee and lay awake all night long until I cross paths with a real shooting star, but a tree blocks my view of the sky from my room. Believe me, I have a lot of wishes I need granted.

"Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief." -C.S. Lewis