There’s a special kind of magic that happens at night. There’s something so beautiful and vulnerable and dangerous about the it that draws me in. And tonight, I was reminded again about why I feel so inclined to stay up late when everyone else is fast asleep.

My best friend Whitney and I were on just another one of our regular late-night excursions. Coasting down Wasatch Blvd. at 2 AM, I was talking heatedly about somethings that had been upsetting me the last couple of days. Feelings of low self-worth, inadequacy, subjects like that.

As we reached the bottom of a hill and began our ascent up another one—just as we began to drive up it—Whitney and I saw, over the crest of the hill, the largest, most brilliant and beautiful shooting star streak downwards across the night sky. The tinting from the top of the windshield gave it an unrealistic, greenish-glow that literally took our breaths away as we both gasped out loud, then sat there in stunned silence before looking at each other in complete wonder and apprehension of what we had just witnessed.

Suddenly, all the terrible feelings that I had just been describing to Whitney, were gone, at least for a moment, while I sat there stupefied. In their place a warmth rushed over and filled me in so quickly. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. And two hours later, I’m still terribly engrossed by it.

So right now, as I lay in bed, typing up this post by the light of my tiny phone screen, things just feel . . . right. I wish so much that you could have seen it. Because it was amazing. It was brilliant. But at the same time, I’m so happy that it’s something that only Whitney and I will ever see, which just makes it even more so.

—m.h.

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