4.22 Light-Years Between
Humans are obsessed with the sky. They stargaze into the night. Trace constellations. Sing odes to a silver-faced moon. Compose poetry, equating blue eyes to a clear sky.
Humans are obsessed with the far-off universe; with its distant planets, galaxies, and the unknown darkness beyond. They build towers. Manufacture airplanes and fly into a sky they cannot hold. Take spaceships to the moon. That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.
They desire things they cannot hope to attain.
The distance between Earth and the moon is 238,900 miles. The sun is 92.96 million miles away. The distance from the sun to Proxima Centauri is 4.22 light-years; passage between other stars even greater. A distance humans can only dream of breaching.
Ten feet. It’s not a long path, easily attainable. I have crossed longer miles. Climbed mountains. Traversed lands of many countries. All to end up in a small coffee shop with nothing but ten feet between. Ten feet of empty space that stretches to 4.22 light-years.
My soul is old. Eternal. The aroma of coffee, of fresh beans grinding is a familiar comfort. It’s what draws me into the shop to begin with. It’s what draws me to her, to the barista orbiting the short and too far distance of tables and counter. She smiles at me and I understand why humans wax poetic, sing songs, mix hues of blues to capture only a glimmer of the sky and its stars.
She circles around customers with the same ease of her smile. It crinkles the corners of her eyes, lights up the warm browns. She pulls my gaze in the same way planets are drawn to the sun.
Ten feet. A distance I can only dream of crossing.
Written to the tune of Train’s Drops of Jupiter.
