How prodigal we are with that which is so precious! If only I could have captured and preserved that smile! But no, we downgrade and misplace that which is easily come by, recognizing its value only when it is too late. So I carelessly let one of my father’s last smiles waste itself against my smug indifference and sank into sleep, blissfully supposing that there were a million more where that one came from.

A touch awoke me. The fire was dim, burned down to glowing coals, and dawn was only a promise in the eastern sky.

“What?”

My father said, “Shhh, Lizzy. Come and look.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Tim was already up, standing near the fire, peering up into the sky.

I joined him and gasped. “What is it? Are the woods on fire?”

“I’ve never seen them so bright,” said my father, pointing.

I stared. The northern sky was filled with arcs and streamers of light, all green and red and yellow. They radiated from the horizon like a great fan, pulsing like the neon gas tubes we had seen outside certain road-houses on the state highway.

“What are they?” I asked.

“The northern lights,” my father said. “We’re lucky. Most times they’re just a dull glow in the sky.”

Fascinated, I said: “Why don’t we see them at home?”

With a chuckle in his voice, he said, “They’re at their brightest just before dawn. Have you ever gotten up to look?”

Shamed, I admitted, “No.”

Tim said, “They make you feel mighty small.”

My father answered: “No, Tim. Rather, when you are alone in the woods and see their glowing fingers, they always remind you that God is everywhere and that there is no darkness deep enough to make you afraid.”

We were silent. The aerial display was enough to make you hold your breath. Then as we watched, the lights flickered, faded, and were gone.

“All right,” said my father, “back to bed. It’s only 4:00 A.M. We have a couple of hours yet till dawn.”

I crawled into my share of the browse bed, but it was a long time before I went back to sleep.

The sun was barely over the edge of the trees, but we had been on the river for two hours. We were ready at dawn. No one slept much after the display of the northern lights. My father was up feeding the fire and cooking breakfast before it was truly light.

Tim and I joined him as soon as the fire took the chill out of the air. We had lain awhile in the bed, whispering about the northern lights. Neither of us had ever been so awed before, not even when Arnie Lindstrom took a 46-pound catfish out of North Creek.