It was an unexpected surprise to see Carrie arrive at my new clinic. I had not thought about her in over a year. I had not seen her in three or four, but I was excited to join her for dinner after work. Why did she want to meet with me? What brought her into town? She wanted to meet at the new bar/restaurant down the road (which, strangely enough, I hadn’t heard of before). I agreed to meet her immediately after my last patient; my paperwork could wait another day.
In retrospect, I do not even remember my patients that day, but my encounter with Carrie remains vivid. I ordered a pint of Sam Adams and sat in the corner booth. She sat facing East, I sat facing West with the sun nearly kissing the horizon. We caught up on small talk first, discussing my wife and children, her children and grandchildren, and how her office was performing. Throughout, it seemed that she had something more important to share.
Because of the meteor shower, however, I will never know what it was. Initially awe-inspiring, there were explosions distant in the sky; our world shook as meteors impacted the ground to the South, but I was not scared. Then I turned my head to see a flash in the Western sky, flame coming right at us. My world fell silent as the great rock struck the building across the road, bouncing toward us.
I immediately woke thinking, “Meteors don’t bounce.”