I can't believe I didn't wake up at 4 am on my own.

What was I thinking? I totally missed the Leonid Meteor shower.

Though I say this in jest, as many of you know that I am probably the farthest possible being from a morning person that has ever existed in the history of mankind, I was actually really sad about my absence during such an amazing event. I was not expecting to be this sad about not seeing some shooting stars. (As a random side note, I was not really expecting to be that excited to see the White House for the first time this spring either, but I was. I guess I'm full of surprises.) I know that I didn't set my alarm (I didn't want to wake Bradley up) but I was kind of hoping that going to bed early and telling myself I would wake up would work. It did not.

I wrote to my dearest most wondrous of friends, Allison, about this. I said that I had really wanted to get up early and walk to the park in the dark so I could lay on my back and look at the sky. It seemed like it would be a really moving thing to do. We all know I like moving things. I've been feeling kind of... unfamiliar lately, like I'm a little distant from my own emotions, like maybe I'm a little confused about what's really going on inside my head. The reason why my Allison is the best Allison ever is because she utterly understands this. And because I really am not so in touch with my feelings lately, I wanted to quote her for some of this blog. With her permission of course.

"I think it would have meant a lot to you to wake up and walk in the park while everyone else was still sleeping. I wish you had gotten to do that. We need the little things, you know? That's what makes all the work we do and all the monotonous routines worth it, to be able to get up at four in the morning, in the cold, and bear witness to falling stars.

I know you're going to find your way back down, Verity. There is a hill beside my parents' house, that runs under a maple tree, and I used to lie on it with my head pointing downhill and look up through the leaves. It made me feel attached to the earth, literally. Like I was holding on while it spun through space. Somehow that was comforting. And I remember taking a walk with Julia one time too, past this field that had just been plowed, and the sun was shining on it, and I had to know if it was warm. I was afraid if I put my hands down in the dirt it would feel cold, but it didn't. What I mean is that even when we feel completely at odds with the world, we are still here, connected. We can't not be. We fill our lungs with the expiration of trees. Even while we were sleeping, the meteors fell. And there is something holding all of that together."

Recently lots of my friends have been posting what they're thankful for in the spirit of the upcoming holiday, on various networking websites. So today I want to say that I'm thankful for the earth, in all it's glory, and the amazing beauty it affords us. But most of all I want to say that I'm thankful for Allison, who always feels what I can't feel, and who expresses my life better than I could ever express it.