The night sky always held me in a way nothing else did. Looking up to stars and moons and planets flying by. My parents often woke me in the middle of the night to count how many meteors would pass us this shower. It was comforting watching the twinkle, the atmosphere which let us breathe and made the sparkles come alive with us.
A person once said he didn’t enjoy star gazing, he didn’t like how little it made him feel. He wanted to be big and revolutionary. I don’t like how little it makes me feel. I repeated these words so often I forgot who said it, and I stopped looking up thinking the sentiment was mine.
Meteor showers and snacks brought me back. Laying on warm pavement as the night cooled around us, waiting for the stars to fall. A clementine and bottle of water, a blanket and pillows from a couch. On our backs with nothing but everything in front of us. Time and sky and time again.
The truth is I don’t agree, the bigness doesn’t define my insignificance. At the other extreme I see the endless - the infinity above me - as further proof that this existence is exactly the road I am supposed to travel on. There is so much beyond us that our minds struggle to comprehend. We theorize and gasp at the expanse of it all. And the fact that I am but a whisper on a cold morning, warm breath escaping and making a tiny cloud out of my name, is nothing short of miraculous. And I love how that feels.