We set up pots and pans in all four directions around our sleeping bags, hoping that if a bear graces our presence again he’ll at least do us the favor of making noise with our cookware first. Then Sam does two things that make my heart freeze. He collects rocks and piles them all next to the head of his sleeping bag, on the side opposite mine. Then, armed with his pocket knife and headlamp, says, “Well, the quicker we fall asleep, the quicker morning will be here!” and promptly darts into his sleeping bag. I hear him snoring five minutes later.
I lean over him and move the pile of rocks so it sits between us. I get out my own pocket knife and headlamp and lie in my sleeping bag wide awake, terrified, and disappointed. I look over at Sam’s sleeping body with dismay—how could he have left me alone to defend us? My excitement about him dissolves into both anger towards him and frustration about having gotten charmed once again by an ultimately ambivalent man.
Then I look up and above me is a performance of light. I have never seen so many stars before. There are thousands, each fighting each other for space, illuminated playmates in a playground sky. I catch a glimpse of a shooting star and train my eyes, determined not to miss another.
My favorite activity on hot summer nights growing up in Pennsylvania was to sit out in the backyard and count the space between falling stars the way we would count the wind’s breath between thunder claps. The darkness that I feared a moment ago has become a blessing, offering a rare view of this spectacular starry dance. I hold my breath and count—one, two, three, four—another to the right! One shoots down to the horizon, above the waterfall, and I half expect to see the Tuolumne light up like gold.
My breath, once accelerated due to the belief in my imminent departure, relaxes and I understand on the deepest level that I am okay, that I am safe beneath the shelter and care of this night sky. Moreover, I know that if in the light of day my heart has still gone cold for Sam, that’s okay, too. I don’t need to have someone’s hand to hold. I can be a pretty good dance partner for myself until another one comes along.
