Chapter 1, continued
Warroad, 1968
“Don’t fall asleep,” Shireen whispered. She turned off the light and crawled into the double bed with me. We could hear our parents talking and laughing in the living room. Mom and Audrey sounded so much alike we couldn’t tell who was saying what.
“Watch the sky in my mirror,” Shireen said. She pointed to the foot of the bed, where a large looking glass hung above the built-in set of drawers and said, softly, “When you can see the colored lights reflected, it’s time for the show.” She lay down and pulled the sheet up to her chin.
My eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. Above our heads was a window as wide as the bed. Lying on my back I could see the mirror just over the tips of my toes. It was a long time before I saw something glow in the mirror.
I sat up in bed, turned around, and knelt before an altar of the night sky. As I pressed against the window screen, the hatch marks disappeared from view. I knelt on the pillows and rested my elbows on the windowsill. Staring at the horizon of pine trees along the hedgerow, hues began to dance. Streaks of green, blues, and lemon yellow jumped the horizon. Flashes of reds and oranges, lime streaks against a purple haze. The North Star and the outline of the Big Dipper popped out against the black moonless sky.
Shireen sat up, turned around, and knelt with me—elbow to elbow—silently staring out the window. Watching the earth’s undulating energy, I felt goose bumps on my skin. On a small swatch of land between the highway and the railroad tracks, I witnessed the mystical aurora borealis.