Wednesday, August 14th. Ben had dreaded it for weeks.

That morning as he dressed, he debated going for coffee at the diner. He knew his friends would be stepping on eggshells around him, not wanting to say or do the wrong thing. They’d wonder if they should acknowledge the day or ignore it unless he brought it up. Should they hug him, or would that be too weird? They wouldn’t decide, and in the end, they’d clap their hand on his shoulder awkwardly. He knew exactly what it would be like because he’d been in their place.

He decided he couldn’t stand the awkwardness of it and stayed home, making himself a single cup of coffee using his Keurig machine, a Christmas gift from his kids. It was a thoughtful gift but one that reminded him every single morning that if he hadn’t made that disastrous decision last year on this very day, a single-cup coffee maker wouldn’t be needed.

Later, he avoided more awkwardness by letting his son’s and sister’s calls go to voice mail. His daughter Hailey didn’t allow him to skip her dinner invitation–she picked him up and brought her back to her home. He relaxed and enjoyed a fantastic, well-balanced meal; good company; and cuddles with his baby granddaughter, Josie May. The baby had both his wife’s name and her big, brown eyes.

That night, as always, Ben woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. It was ironic that his sleepiness caused the accident yet left him an insomniac.

Hailey sent him home with leftover pie and it beckoned to him. He cut a generous slice and warmed it in the microwave. Her pie was such a treat: a light and flaky crust and a filling of wild Saskatoons picked at just the right time. He remembered his wife and teenage Hailey working side-by-side in the kitchen, rolling out pastry. “The less you work your pastry, the better it will be,” Josie advised.

Ben stepped outside and sat on his back porch. The night was inky black, and cool, damp fog hugged the ground. He tucked a crocheted afghan around his knees and under his feet. Josie made it in shades of blue and green reminiscent of glacial ice and seawater they’d seen on their 20th-anniversary Alaskan cruise. Their favourite shore excursion was to a dog musher’s village. He remembered Josie’s unmitigated joy as the adorable puppies wiggled in her arms and dispensed big, sloppy kisses on her face! She loved all children and animals fiercely.

A lump formed in Ben’s throat and tears in his eyes. It was his fault that Josie May lost her amazing grandmother, and he could never make that up to her.

For their 24th wedding anniversary, Ben and Josie made a rare trip to the city for dinner and to see the movie Oppenheimer. He remembered that the price of a steak dinner shocked them both, especially as the steak was overcooked. “Ah, but I didn’t have to prepare dinner or wash the dishes!” she joked.

He hadn’t liked the movie much, either.

It was nearly 11:00 when they left the theatre. Josie had a Coke with her popcorn and was wide awake, but Ben was not. “Why don’t I drive us home?” she offered. Home was 45 minutes away. But he declined. He always drove when they were together.

Half an hour later, when Ben turned up the volume on the radio and blinked his eyes repeatedly to keep his lids from closing, Josie suggested, “Why don’t you pull over at the rest stop and have a quick nap?” But when his high beams fell on the rest stop sign, he drove right by. Josie rested her hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. No anger, no rebuke. She trusted him.

He proved to be undeserving of her trust. He fell asleep. The car drifted onto the shoulder and crashed into a moose. The enormous animal was swept off its feet and propelled across the hood. Josie was suffocated by the weight of the beast sealing the airbag over her nose and mouth.

Ben stifled a sob. Suddenly, a meteorite traversed the sky. Josie would have said it was a falling star and urged him to make a wish. He heard her whisper in his ear, “Make a wish, Ben.”

“Oh, Josie!” he said out loud to the night, “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished that I accepted your offer to drive home!”

Maybe there was magic in falling stars. A soft, warm breeze scented with roses and vanilla circled Ben, and he closed his eyes and inhaled Josie’s perfume. The zephyr moved on, but Josie’s scent lingered. He felt her presence so strongly then and he didn’t open his eyes–he wanted the moment to go on and on.

“Ben?” Josie asked, “Are you okay?”

He and Josie stood hand-in-hand in the parking lot of the movie theatre. His jaw dropped in surprise, and he turned quickly to check the marquee behind them. Still Oppenheimer. Had he been given a do-over? He looked at Josie and his jaw quivered and his eyes filled with tears. He was beyond grateful for his second chance. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and held on.

“Ben!” She looked up at him and laughed as his tears bounced off her nose. She repeated, “Are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine.” He lifted her off her feet and swung her in a circle.

Josie looked amazed at his unusual behaviour. “Why don’t I drive us home?” she offered.

“Thank you,” he said and passed her his keys, “That would be best.” When they approached the spot of last year’s accident, he said, “Careful, Honey. There could be a moose.”

“Right. I’ll be careful.”

They saw the moose by the side of the highway, but Josie stopped in time and allowed it to cross. Everyone was safe!

Thank the stars.