Have you ever spent a summer’s night lying on your
back, watching the stars? If you tilt your head back—just a little—it almost
feels like gravity plays a trick on you, and you’re about to fall into the sky.
I would dangle my legs up toward the stars, and it felt like I was only
attached to the ground by the thinnest of threads. I used to do that all the
time when I was little. I would show my cousins too, but they always said the
feeling of falling into the sky was too weird, and they’d go back inside. But I
loved it! I still do, actually. I would look at the spaces between the stars
and wonder what I would find if I managed to somehow loose myself from this
tiny rock and plummet into the depths of space—only I didn't think of it as
“space” back then, such an empty and lifeless word. No, the stars were placed
in the Heavens, and I was sure that if I could get myself up there I would be
able to hear them singing, and I might even be able to dance with them.
I’m not sure when
it happened, exactly, but gradually I stopped running outside after dark to
stare up at the sky and wonder. It might have been because I found out there
were little bugs and creatures on the ground that liked to climb on me while I
was looking elsewhere. It might have been because no one would go with me, and
I heard terrifying stories about children who went out after dark and were lost
or taken. Perhaps I got distracted by people, tv, video games, or books. Whatever
happened to cause it, I stopped. Then I moved to a big city, and the stars hid
away behind the lights of the cars and the buildings and the airplanes. I
stopped wondering what was out there, and I stopped listening for the songs of
Heaven and the stars. Instead I became
preoccupied with myself and those small happenings that impacted my life. What I would do, what I would become, who I saw—or
worked with, or liked, or didn't. I lost sight of the stars, and forgot how
small and petty I really am—and I became overwhelmingly and agonizingly… sad.
I forgot what I
used to know so well as a little girl: just because I am so small now doesn't
mean I have to stay that way. I am only half-a-breath from falling into the
glorious song and dance of the Heavens themselves.
I think I’m going
to go stargazing tonight. Maybe this time, I won’t come back.
