Counting Stars

The sky is beautiful today evening. When the last sun rays of the day kiss the heathland, when the oranges and purples melt into grey under the moonlight. They move slowly, lolloping in their ungainly way, modifying as they go. They go so slow yet so fast. I can’t even get started on how short the beauty of the sunset lasts. Sometimes I watch them for a while, but today I have to go to the forest so that my dad could teach me rabbit hunting. I know, I live in a city and yet do this. Why? I guess it’s because we used to live in the countryside and rabbit hunting was a ‘trend’ over there. After my dad taught me how to do it several times, it was my turn. I hate killing harmless beings and I hate people who do it. I can’t say that to my dad though, he’ll get offended and say that I’m being racist to our culture. I don’t think he even knows the meaning of the word ‘racist’.

“C’mon, hurry up. The rabbits aren’t going to stay out here all day, they’re gonna go back” Dad urges me to hurry up.

Then I take aim, one bullet, one fat rabbit for stew, job done, right? Well I guess it’s not that easy. They scatter around and I don't have the patience to stick around for more.

“I can’t” I say fed up.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Dad answers.

“I’ve been here all day, and I don’t want to kill an innocent rabbit!” I argue.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes fine.”

I couldn’t believe he finally let me go. I felt as free as a bird coming out of its cage for the first time.

Before leaving, I spot a tree. Abnormal from the rest. It’s in the distance, but I can see smudges of red among it. I walk closer realizing it was a strawberry tree. I carefully picked one out. The strawberry is small but perfectly red, like the ones I remember all those years ago in the farm store. It bears resemblance to the white-topped monsters in the supermarkets, large with such a diffuse flavour and barely-there sweetness. This little fruit-royalty wears a jagged crown of deep green like summer foliage. And yes, the smell. it smells like heaven in my palm, instantly inducing a sense of nostalgia.

I remember when I used to stay up all night waiting for everyone to fall asleep and then sneaking out in order to get my hands on those strawberries. And then the next day the shopkeepers would find half of their strawberries gone with some half-eaten ones on the floor. It was pitch dark though. The eerie darkness of that night would never escape my memory. The milky speckles twirled and danced along the sky in various patterns, tugging at the corners of my lips in a way that almost made me smile. It was hard to shove aside the worries corrupting my mind. Worries that I would get caught for ‘stealing strawberries’. I stopped walking over the aisle with the strawberries and just... stopped thinking. I was alone. It felt as though nothing from my life could touch me. Not a single thing could harm me. I stared up at the sky and studied the silver glow of the moon. It smiled down at me with love so intense it warmed my soul like a fireplace on a cold winter's night. And there I was, standing in the grocery store at midnight to eat… strawberries.

That last sentence sounded better in my head.

Anyway. The look that the moon gave me didn't cause the storm to go on inside of me. Instead, a hot blue fire flickered in my heart and soon started to grow, eating at all of the dark emotions in its path. My worries burned away. But the worries that I would get caught weren’t the only reason. Why would I remember that night so well then? Well, what really happened was that I had escaped home. Yes, I ran away from home. It was because my parents were giving me higher respect to my sister, which I hate. I felt as if I was invisible. But I had to go back the next day.

Crying felt good, especially when they were tears that I didn't want to push away. They weren't drops of sadness, no. They were more like the feelings of joy, relief, happiness and freedom streaming away from my hurt eyes. They were temporary cleaners to wash away the pain. I never cried; it just wasn't me. But that night, under the protection of millions of stars and the beautiful moon, I felt like I could let the floodgates open with a single snap of my fingers. I stared up at the sky and continued to let my pain run away for the moment. The cold midnight waves rolled in and tickled my feet as I stood on the tiles of the grocery store, not ever wanting to leave.

 I start drifting away before abruptly snapping out of it.

“What are you doing? Hurry up, we’re gonna be late” Dad groans.

I hide the strawberry into my jeans pocket and walk home, sneakily nibbling on it on the way. The Sweet-sour tastes swirl in my mouth and I can still smell the blissful natural smell. It felt amazing being reminded of home and made me feel grateful that I had the chance to live in a countryside. Maybe rabbit hunting isn’t all that bad I suppose.

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Back at home, I sat there patiently waiting for dinner to get ready. I started remembering what happened in the woods. It was a truly a wonderful time. Even if it was as bad as running away from home, it was fun. And having fun sometimes is good. Isn’t it? I looked up at the sky from my backyard, hoping to see the same moon and glorious stars like that day. I lay under the stars, which were like a beautiful, surreal blanket above my head. I would call them beautiful, but even that wouldn’t do its justice. This is something you can’t describe or tell anyone about to share the experience, not even something you can capture in a photo. You can only know by experience, only seeing them through your eyes will you be able to see the beauty. Stars are just shiny silvery-blue dots in the sky, so why are they so pretty? What makes it different than dots of light shining through little holes on a black paper? I’d never figure it out. Maybe it’s the reality of it. The mystery. A mystery I’m not up for solving.