It is one of those nights. You know the kind where the air is neither too hot or too cold—the kind of thing Goldilocks would approve of—the kind of night that makes you pause. Here in my own private fairy tale, the stars scatter themselves blissfully across the dark as the wind tangles my hair.
I discover Orion as I have done in younger days—wishing and wondering in my quiet how many eyes look skyward as mine do at this very moment.
The clear, cloudless sky stretches into infinity and echoes back the wishes of many generations tangled within its galaxies. Here we are alone, but never alone. We are small but mighty—manifesting all that we send into this vast celestial ocean.
Though we hear nothing back in the way of intelligible sentences, know that our wishes are not in vain. They are tucked in and wait for the dawn, where all dreams come to fruition, deep within the whispered promises of tomorrow.
This is night where new love never yearns to let go of the hand it holds—fighting sleep and weary legs in order not to take those inevitable parting steps–a night where children reluctantly follow voices that beckon for them to come inside. They play in frenzied fashion—exhausting what energy remains before doors shut on current plans. Thinking wildly, conjuring new adventures–moments before their sleep-laden eyes draw the blinds on these dwindling hours.
This is the kind of night where friends laugh together as if they will never laugh like this for the rest of their lives. Where bonfires blaze, we look deep into eyes alight with conversation and kinship–forgetting accumulated birthdays to become teenagers again.
Forgetting our mortal selves, we brave the hours as best we can–each other’s words and stories nestling into the cherished stardust of our thoughts.
In hushed tones, we say good night to those we love and who love us—putting to bed the madness of the afternoon–ever grateful for the day we have had.
Succumbing to the silence and the stars, all fold into the faithful turning of the Earth. Where silence is broken only by the birds, which seem to know before anyone, that day is traveling light.
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Image Credit: Alexas_Photos/Alexandria/Pixabay