The Stars Remind Me

Sometimes I forget about you, God.

I know it’s crazy. How could I forget someone so amazing, so powerful… but you seem so invisible sometimes. 

The stars are so vast. Or, rather, space is. I can’t see space, of course, but the stars in it are so far away. I am always amazed. When I take the time to look, they inspire me with awe and I have to acknowledge you.

The winds rustle the leaves above and around me, all flapping together in summer gusts of happiness. It’s a sound I never realize my hunger for until I hear it, and when I do, I want to lie down in the soft green grass and put my hands behind my head and look up into the flickering blue sky that peeks through the fluttering green. 

The rain beats down on my car. I gather up my courage and my bag and my keys, then open the door and step out into the rain. I run through the drenching downpour. My wedges are three inches high but I’m really good at running in heels. I dash through the puddles, laughing (probably maniacally) and into the open door of the grocery store, grateful for no line up or door guard.

I look up from a beautifully worded, gem-laden read to see my new bookshelf laden with other adventures. My teddy bear and giraffe sit at the top. Soon, I will get handles for my dresser and Alex will screw them on for me, and I’ll be able to put the piles of clothes on my floor away. My bed is soft and I’ll be getting an office chair to go with my desk soon.

The announcer is yelling, and Dad is encouraging the baseball on the screen to make it, and when it does, he hollers and throws his fist in the air. Tyler jumps up and down while Mom smiles. Savana comes running down form her room, having heard the commotion, and begs to know what is happening so she can rejoice as well.

My tea is hot. Not burn-your-tongue hot, but pleasantly hot, where I have to let it sit in my mouth for a bit before swallowing it. The lemon and ginger swirl pleasantly together with the bit of honey I added. The tea bag is nicely trapped beneath my spoon so I don’t swallow it. My tea usually gets cold on me before I can finish it— I always use a big mug— but it’s okay, cause it’s good cold too. 

My laptop has playlists of plays I have seen and have yet to see. I love the expression of the human mind and heart set to stage with a passion. I long to create and organize such an event; to move people to laughter, to tears, to knowledge, to the depths of human existence. 

As a kid, I could never find pencils and black markers, so whenever I found one, I adopted it. Needless to say, they’d always go missing. Lately, though, I’ve been going through all my old purses and containers that were stuffed in the back of my closet. Now I have a whole fistful in a pencil holder on my desk and it makes me so happy. 

The tomato plants in the garden have their leaves curled because of the heat, but their carefulness keeps them healthy. The fruit is bulging on their branches, hanging plump and smooth and green. I spend many hours pulling weeds to give them the best chance they could possibly have.

I groan in mock annoyance as Philip waltzes into my room, demanding entertainment. I hand him a classic novel off my shelf and he gets lost in the words. I pat myself on the back for being such a good sister to expose such quality of storytelling to a young mind. 

My candle smells like a lazy morning at camp when I ditch all my friends and family and go hiding in the woods somewhere. I love doing that, when the birds sing all around me and the chipmunks chatter and creep closer when I scatter sunflower seeds from the store in my pockets. What kind of candle could smell like that? My favourite is burned to the end of its wick. So long, tobacco, vanilla, and cognac. The one I’m burning right now is scented with green clover, woods, and aloe. Perfectly elvish. 

I get up from where I've been sitting in the wet dirt with my old jeans and head over to the hose. My skin smells like sunshine. I’m getting nicely tanned. The water from the hose is warm at first as I scrub the garden off my calloused feet and scrape it from under my fingernails. 

Music plays through my earbuds. There is so much at my fingertips! When I need motivation, I have countless movie soundtracks to choose from. I have classical whenever I need to think, or when I’m showering— there is nothing quite like the notes of Pavane floating through the air while cool water runs down over my body. When I’m energetic or despondent, I have a country playlist that Alex helped me expand. And there is so much more. 

Waves lap at the shore. Sometimes they are furious and inspiring and frightening, but right now they are gentle, calming, listening. The gulls congregate on the shore, making way for me and my dog as though we were the queens of their colony. The sky overhead is painted with thick strokes of marvellous colours. The waters imitate it but lend their own beauty of restless movement.

There are so many moments where your goodness shows itself. It’s crazy that I can forget about you in the monotony of everyday life when you have packaged so many little treasures in tiny moments if I only take the time to appreciate them.

Those stars. Oh look! There’s one— and it’s gone. It was a comet. And that bright one over there. I’m pretty sure it’s a planet. When I worked night shift at a farm, loading trailers full of cucumbers, I could tell the time by that planet. But of course you know that. 

It’s amazing how you made the stars, God. It’s incredible, and they always remind me. They remind me of you.