-Starry-Night-

-Starry-Night-

It is 6PM in the afternoon, and as Momma likes to call it, the lazy hours. The sky is starting to tinge pink and the moon above is translucent and at the quarter phase. Stars are starting to make their shy appearance as I ride my bike into the valley between the two hills. 

Golden weeds sway in the afternoon breeze and bails of hay lay rolled in the distance. The white wild-flowers have already started dotting the soft earth and the song of the crickets rises in the distance. In my bike basket, there is a picnic blanket and a book. 

As I begin setting them down, my fingertips brushes a letter that made its way into my basket. Momma must have plucked the letter out of the mailbox and seeing it was addressed to me, put in my basket. 

Light beige in color with a maroon wax seal on it, this letter tugs at my heartstrings. I know the words scribbled on the paper could not possibly be bringing good news; they haven’t brought anything but sorrow and yearning for the past few weeks. 

Gently replacing the letter in the basket, I take out my picnic blanket and begin setting my things down on them. I am a little disheartened now and I only want to go home and fall into a deep sleep.

I pry open the letter gently and a neatly folded paper falls out. Flipping open the letter, her neat hand-writing is scrawled over the sheet. It begins:

“Hello my darling, I hope this letter reaches you in the best of health. I miss you ever so dearly. I hope you will forgive me for my short letter today; I am not good at good-byes. 

I know you must understand that this love is never due to work out. We are from two different worlds and we simply cannot be together. I love you so much, but I can do this no longer. 

But I suppose you know that already. You could have already told by last week’s letter. You are quite a smart thing. I will miss your cleverness and your laughter--heavens only know how much I love your laughter. You can light up a room with your smile. 

I hope that the future will be better than the 1950’s for lovers like us. I hope we can grow from the time we shared together and can become stronger, emotionally and romantically.”

Yours every so truly,

Andromeda. 

Looking up into the sky, a tear falls down my cheek. I feel it run down my face and finally plop onto the letter. The ink starts separating and the words blur together.

My thoughts feel like the smudged words, messy and incoherent. I feel utterly hopeless and lost. My throat feels tight as I try to fight back the tears; as I try to resist the urge to cry. 

Falling back unto the grass and clenching at my heart, I gaze at the stars.

Stars are quite lamentable. Stars, as non-living balls of gas had been personified by myths, given by astronomers looking to understand why the stars were up there. Isn't that what all humans do? Try to understand?

One of my favourite stories was of Zeus and one of his many romantic endeavours. 

The Thunder God, Zeus had a nymph lover, Callisto. Callisto eventually bore the child, Arcas. His wife, Hera was jealous of the love they shared and so, she turned Callisto into a bear. One day, Arcas was hunting and came face to face with his mother, Callisto. 

Arcas, frightened by the bear, pulled out his spear. Before he could pierce his mother's heart, Zeus intervened. He placed them into the sky, Callisto became Ursa Major and Arcas became Ursa Minor.

The Gods loved without boundaries but their love destroyed lives and could hurt gracelessly. How could love be so painful? Dare to love, dare to die.  

The night was always my favorite time. Everyone was tired and returning home from a long day’s work. They would return home to loved ones and would surrender all the worries of their day. 

The lonely souls came home to silence and the night sky. I had always loved the night sky because there was something unjudging and understanding about the vast expanse of darkness.

Have you ever looked up at the night sky and just felt completely arrested?

Like you could stare forever and not get tired?

I start crying again. Chest-wracking sobs. I try to quiet myself--but there was no-one here to hear me, no-one here to comfort me. I had never cried like this before. The lover’s cry. 

The stars and the Moon knew all of my secrets. Whenever sad, I would talk to the sky. I confide in Mother Night, because she listens and she never tells anyone.

“My lover has left me,” I whisper to her through tears. My voice breaks with every word.

“They took my lover from me,” she says in hushed tones.

The breeze brushes my face and dries my tears. The golden reeds sing in muted tones and the grasshoppers have quieted. 

Mother Night continues, “The Sun and I fell in love with each other. But our love was too powerful and the Gods separated us, only allowing us to meet at every eclipse. After the eclipse passed we would be alone again--the Sun in the morning sky and me with the stars in the lonely night sky.”

“When will the pain stop?” I ask her

“The pain never stops, we simply choose to forget--to grow and to forgive. We cannot remain sorrowful forever. We must pick our broken pieces up and try to fix them together. Like a chipped china cup, we will never be the same. The little cracks now become a part of us, the growing pains that will help bloom your true self. Take the pain and make beautiful things with them. Bloom,” she sings back to me.

I clutch the letter to my heart before bringing it to my lips and kissing it. Taking a pack of matches from my pocket, I strike a match and bring it to the edge of the letter. Setting a corner alight, I watch it burn then dropping it to the grass, I stomp on the flames. Nothing is left but a pile of black ashes. 

With a final glance up at the stars, a sad smile graces my lips. 

I pick up my bike and start walking home. 

In the distance Mother Night sings to her lover.