I sit outside in our backyard. The fire has already been lit and is chuckling softly to itself. The back of my chair tilts back a little, so I can look up at the sky. There is a quiet conversation going on beside me, but I am silent.
I was thinking of you when I put on your sweater earlier, and I think of you now as I see the stars appear, one by one. I look up at them from below, wondering if you can see me, looking down at them from above. It’s hard to imagine that stars are massive balls of burning gas, some of them far more powerful than the sun. Right now, I believe that their only purpose is to be wondered at from far, far away.
The fireflies have created their own galaxy under the canopy of trees, now flashing here, then reappearing someplace else. Isn’t it strange how, when looking up at them, the trees seem bend their heads together, leaning over you, making up the walls of Nature’s big cathedral, while the stars are painted over the ceiling, more beautiful than in Saint-Chapelle?
One star is visible through the branches of a tree. It is throbbing, breathing gently. Something bright passes slowly over the sky, like a comet moving in very slow-motion. A plane is spotted too, passing low. It must have hit some turbulence, for its lights waver, rocking slowly back and forth.
The stars are getting brighter as the night gets darker. Then, I can see the moon rising from a yellow haze. It is full tonight, and a bright yellow, like a golden sponge.
As I lie here, all the fears I had before are gone. Nothing matters anymore, and yet, everything does all at once. I am only a fraction of a bigger mechanism, only a cell of a bigger body. I’m glad I’m only a small part of this universe, but, though I am small, I know I am special, and I matter.
As I go inside, I feel closer to you, to me, to everything. I know I will sleep well tonight. Goodnight.
Thank you for reading this 🙂