Another fine day comes to a close.
The crew is already conked out on the bed with me. Spike’s at my feet and Bridget’s in my armpit. That’s enough reading for tonight. I pull up the window blind about eight inches so I can see the stars, place my glasses on the little table, rearrange my pillow, click the light, and scrunch down into the covers.
My head on my pillow, I contentedly gaze up at the night sky.
So many stars are visible tonight. As is my custom, I recount the activities of the day in my mind, and wonder what I’ll do tomorrow. Gee, those stars are bright. I lift up my head to get a better look out the window. That’s when I see it. What in the world is THAT?
An orange, glowing sphere is hovering just above the horizon.
This light is bigger than the lights of the stars. I start to analyze. It’s hovering too far above the horizon to be the light of a building. There aren’t any buildings anyway. This is the desert, silly. I strain my eyes to make sure I’m actually seeing something, not just a reflection.
Holy sh*t! There’s ANOTHER one! (Let me interrupt the story line right here and point out that I did not say the above referenced swear word out loud. I did, however, think it in a very big way.)
Two brilliant orange lights just above the desert horizon . . . Hmmm.
It can’t be Christ returning. These lights are in the north and He said He’d come back from the east. Besides there’s two lights. Who would the other guy be? Oh, there’s got to be a logical explanation. It’s probably reflections. Yeah, that’s it. That’s what they always say about people who see UFOs, like those folks over in Roswell. But what could they be reflections of?
The refrigerator lights! That’s it!
I whip my head around and look at the two orange lights on the fridge panel. One shows the gas is on, the other the level of cold it’s set at. What a relief. I ease out of bed, grab a towel, and drape it over the refrigerator lights. I’m smiling in acknowledgement of my fine-tuned, analytical ability. Not too shabby. The old girl’s still got it. I go back and look out the window.
THE LIGHTS ARE STILL THERE!
“Holy sh*t! I know, I know, excessive swearing. You’d swear, too, if two unidentified, unexplainable big ol’ orange lights were hovering on YOUR horizon. I slip into my shoes, fumble around for my flashlight, go outside, and creep around the trailer to get a better look. “Son of a b*^#tch!” (Sorry! This time I say it out loud.)
Now there are THREE lights!
This is NOT good. What IS this? An alien attack? I look up the lane. Rick’s Scamp has a light. Good, Rick’s up. I’m calling him. He’s gotta see this. I go back inside. Bridget’s awake, sitting up looking at me with her “I’m scared” face. Spike sleeps on.
“Hi, Rick. I’m sorry to bother you but I see your light is on.” I’m talking fast. This is urgent. Whatever these things are, they’re multiplying by the minute. “Look out your window to the north. What the heck are those lights?” I try not to sound too alarmed.
“Oh, that’s just flares,” he replies without laughing, for which I am grateful. “They put up those flares so they can do practice exercises at night over at the missile range.”
The muscles in my neck relax.
“Gee, I thought we were being attacked by aliens!” Before I can say goodbye, the connection crackles, breaks up, and the call dies. Now THAT’s more likely aliens!
The next day Rick strolls by, walking his dog, Lady, and says something that makes me feel a little less the fool.
“My first night out here I saw them and I almost grabbed my toothbrush and ran,” he tells me with a chuckle.
Speaking of bright lights in the sky, take a look at tonight’s sunset!