I reached into my pocket and pulled out a little black box. With trembling hands, I opened it. Inside was a ring. Nothing fancy. Just a simple band.
I inhaled deeply, then said, "Autumn, I was wondering if you'd like to marry me."
She dropped the daffodils. Tears came to her eyes. She wiped them away, laughed in that Muttley way she laughs, then responded, "Sure. Why the hell not?"
***
When a comet comes through the inner solar system, it only stays for a little while. To see one in the sky can be quite the event. It can be life-changing, awe-inspiring, and even frightful. It can be humbling. It can challenge your notion of a normal existence, reminding you how little and fragile you are. Then it disappears. But not before leaving its mark.
The last perihelion of the comet 109/P Swift-Tuttle occurred on December 11, 1992. With its long electric blue tail, it was a beautiful sight for those lucky enough to see it. The next time it swings by will be in the year 2126. Autumn and I, in all likelihood, will be long in the dirt by then. But every summer, around mid-July to late August, the Earth's orbit always intersects the Swift-Tuttle's dust trail. When that happens, if you happen to be in a place with a dark, clear sky, you will likely see the fiery streaks of the comet dust as they hit our atmosphere. That is what the Perseid meteor shower is -- the dust trail left behind by the Swift-Tuttle comet. When Autumn and I get hitched, we won't have a fancy wedding or anything. But for our honeymoon, you'll be sure to find us on the Big Island, watching the Perseid meteors rain down on us.
The End
