Many nights ago found my entire family laying in our driveway. We stretched out on my son’s dirty sleeping bag that still was in the garage after being put there two weeks prior from this three day camp. Out of sight. And all that. And when I say stretched, I mean crammed. A few nights ago my family crammed themselves onto a dirty blanket in the front yard. And it was one of my happiest moments.

When watching the news earlier that morning, we learned that there was going to be a meteor shower. It was going to be an early one. So it would be possible for the kids to see some shooting stars prior to their bedtime.

The plan was for us all to gather in the hot tub. I turned the hot tub on and due to circumstances unseen (long story) had to come up with an alternative.

My husband said, “Why don’t we just lay in the driveway?”

To which I replied, “Great idea! I am going to need you to move the cars to block the entrance to the driveway so we don’t get run over.”

This ensued in a little conversation about it being our driveway and why would someone pull into it. What would they be doing? How could that happen? And if you put all of those questions to a hypochondriac…Well, you will find there is always an answer. I ended up “winning.” Cause I am nothing if not cautious. And more than a little bit paranoid.

So, we blocked the driveway with our cars and stretched crammed onto our dirty blanket.

We were blocked from our neighbor’s views. Which made us giggle a few times when we heard people walking by and unknowingly talking amongst themselves.

Our heads were cradled by one of my pillows I had made from an old feed bag. I figured it had seen worse than our dirty blanket.

And we stared into the night sky. I felt so at peace. We laid out there for thirty minutes. We ended up seeing six falling stars. One of them was spectacular. It was right above our house. As stars tend to be. And it lit up the night sky like a firework.

My family slowly left and made their way inside. I was reluctant to move. To get up. To leave the serene moment behind.

But I did. I shoved the blanket back into the garage. God forbid I take it inside and wash it. At some point, I will have no choice. But for now, there it remains. It reminds me of serenity and falling bits of sky every time I see it.

Why can’t all soiled articles do the same? And why can’t every night be filled with sporadic lights across the sky? And memories being made?

Purity. It can come in any form.

Even a dirty blanket.

P.S. I shared this on savvy southern style.

And My Romantic Home.