My mother often told me, “Don’t sit on Grandpa’s lap.” I never understood why. One day, I didn’t listen to her and sat down anyway. Grandpa smiled, leaned close to my ear, and whispered, “Can you come sleep beside me tonight?”

He smiled.

“You told me that one day you wanted to stay awake all night and watch shooting stars with me.”

I laughed nervously.

“I said that?”

“You said it very seriously.”

Mom wiped her eyes.

“You also told him he wasn’t allowed to fall asleep first.”

Grandpa laughed.

“And she threatened to pour cold water on me if I did.”

I stared at him.

“I would never!”

Grandpa raised an eyebrow.

“You absolutely would.”

I smiled.

For the first time that night, I wasn’t scared.

Then Grandpa said,

“There is a meteor shower tonight.”

I looked through the window.

“Really?”

“The biggest one we’ve had in years.”

“And we’re going to watch it?”

“That was the plan.”

I looked at Mom.

She nodded.

“Yes.”

Then I noticed something.

Grandpa’s hand was trembling.

Only slightly.

But I noticed.

“Grandpa?”

He quickly tucked his hand beneath the blanket.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

He smiled.

“I’m fine.”

Mom looked away.

And suddenly, I knew.

Something was still being hidden from me.

---

We settled onto the mattresses.

Mom sat between us at first.

Grandpa adjusted the telescope.

He had apparently been working on it for months.

Every few minutes he’d make a tiny adjustment.