It was an evening last week. Just before I went to bed, I looked out the window that opens onto the street two floors down. Just above the rooftops of the houses, the sky was dotted with stars.
At that moment, I felt something terribly good inside me.
I have always loved to get lost in the immensity of the sky. I grew up in the countryside, far from the pollution of the cities. A small village lost in the middle of wheat fields. In the evening, I was lucky enough to be able to observe the thousands of stars above my head.
In the rare moments when the sky was overcast, I had the planetarium that allowed me to project constellations and stars onto the ceiling of my room. There were many opportunities to travel to the far reaches of the universe, and I did not miss them.
The Moon too, this charming lady. Isn’t she always beautiful to look at when night falls? To think that we have managed to reach it and land on its ground. It has always made me dream.
My childhood best friend’s father had been offered a huge telescope for his birthday. I had then been able to look at the craters on the surface of the Moon for the first time so close. I still remember it today, so much that moment had affected me.
And then these white clouds that move above us, sometimes forming amazing shapes, what would we be without them? I really like to take pictures of them. In fact, I could spend hours capturing the sky and its many shades of color.
All those evenings I spent sitting somewhere in a corner of the garden behind the house, looking towards this infinite space. These are probably the times when I have traveled the most. Traveling like no other, since only my mind took off to distant lands. My body was there, motionless and relaxed, in ecstasy before the beauty of the world.
I remember one August a few years ago. We had spent a good hour with my mother observing the sky while it was dark. It was during the famous Perseids, those shooting star rains that can be observed once a year during star night. I recorded more than 19 that evening, a wonderful show. My mother and I had stayed for an hour contemplating the sky, lying on the garden chairs in the rocky alley.
Things are happening up there. What little girl, what little boy didn’t one day catch himself dreaming by looking up to the sky? How many stories were born under the starry sky to observe the Milky Way?
I’m 32 years old, but I’m still that little boy who has bright eyes when he looks at the stars. Look, I even wrote it in my bio.
I must be a dreamer, I guess. Besides, I never stop thinking and figuring things out. My brain works continuously without really taking a break.
It’s a little tiring sometimes. But hey, I don’t really want to go back down to Earth. I’m fine up here. Life is lighter, more attractive.
It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.
— William Shakespeare
So, as long as life allows me, I will continue to look up and look at the stars.
I wrote two poems that are related to this story, maybe you’ll like it.
Thanks for reading!