We See What We Remember 

In the spring
of the mid-eighties,
you took us over the mountains
at three in the morning
to try to see
the comet
that won’t pass again
for another forty-five years
from now.
I slept on blankets
in the way, way back
of the wagon.
We pulled into
a look-out
with other families
and telescopes
we didn’t know.
The dark sky
grabbed all of us,
lit up with more stars
than I ever thought
possible
and a pull of energy,
I could not name.
We were above
the Columbia valley,
on the edge
of a one-shot moment
for most.
The highway
and the open sky
hushed the conversations,
but still the air
was electric.

I could not tell you
how the comet looked,
or even if
we saw it at all.
I must have foolishly
held the idea that I could
see it again
in my lifetime.
But either way,
it was up there.
And we drove over the mountains
at three in the morning
to try to see
the comet
that won’t pass again
for another forty-five years
from now,
long after you have gone.

~ Megan M. Codera

One thought on “We See What We Remember 

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