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I snuck out of the house tonight.
All the way to the backyard.
I was wrapped loosely by a soft blanket, but the warm summer air enveloped me with all the warmth i could ever ask for. I found a good place on my deck, and despite it being extremely unsanitary with whatever people tracked on here via the bottom of their shoes or through various bird droppings, i proceeded to lie down on it. The stars were overhead, diluted by the porch lights surrounding me, but plenty visible, even with my horrible vision.
I had just learned about these vary stars in school. I learned about the great minds that dedicated their lives studying them, about the telescopes like Hubble who continue to study them today. Also, I learned about the light they give off, and how it could take hundreds of light years for such light to reach us. I learned how, because of this, many of the stars we see today have been long burnt out, and we can only see them because its taken just this long for their light to reach us, to enlighten us.
I had a thought, looking up at these stars.
These that i look up at now are watching over everyone I know, everyone i will ever know, everyone I have ever met. Even those long dead in their grave, or not yet born. They are overseeing my lost love from camp, my father, my lost love from camp’s father. The pretty stars are overseeing the man who sold me my first camera, my best friend from kindergarten who I no longer speak to. They are looking over the people I will someday work for, whoever it is I might marry when I grow up, and possibly the people who will bury me when I die. They were, as of that moment, seeing all the citizens of earth; and if they weren’t then, they definitely would within twelve hours. Even the astronauts.
Northern star. He shines the brightest, and is the least discreet of all of them. He’s the kid in class who won’t shut up. I like him the best.
I don’t remember all the facts, but I think I remember being taught that people long ago used him as a compass. If they wanted to travel North, they would follow him, but I may be wrong on that fact.
Amazing. People go to museums all the time to see old relics, but we have one on display every night, wherever you are in the world, that tells you tales, personally, about a time so long ago they didn’t even have compasses!
So, its true. The stars are beautiful, and if I were to be anything in the world- wait, the universe- other than myself, I would want to be a star, so I could look down and make sure everyone I love, will love, or have ever loved is alright. Healthy and happy. Then, when I burn out as all stars do (nothing lasts forever!) I could continue looking down on glorious earth until the extent on my light has dissipated into the blue little marble. What a productive life! Even after death, your light continues to shine for generations and generations.
In retrospect, I guess we as people are like that also. Even long after we are gone, even after everyone we have ever met is long gone, and everyone they ever met is gone as well, our light still shines. We live in history, not necessarily by name, but by our actions. Im sure Vincent Van Gogh thought nothing at the time how putting some paint on a piece of parchment might change the world forever; I’m sure Richard and Maurice never thought their burger shack could eventually service 64 millions of customers each day. Yet somehow, it happened.
They made it in history. I will too. Just writing to all of you embeds me in history a little further.
Its funny. Im speaking to everyone who will ever read this, and all of those people are being looked after by those stars right now, and will continue being looked over by those beautiful stars until the light from those stars run out, and who knows when that will be. So being that, the stars already beat me to the punch, and reached you first.