Driving home from the city last night we saw something most spectacular. All three of us saw it at the same time: a bright luminescent green shooting star went streaking across the sky from east to west in a delicate arc. It shot slowly. Bright at first, as always, and then faded as it moved west.
I was awestruck.
I made my wish. I can’t tell you what it is, of course, because then it won’t come true. But those closest to me know what the wish is without even asking.
I love the stars, this is an often-ish subject for me. My house is quiet right now, I can only hear the clocks ticking through time. I have many loved ones scattered throughout space and time. And all I can think about at the moment is how regardless of how far away people might feel, the sky is still the same. The stars will still be the same stars no matter how quickly the earth might revolve.
Time and space seem to not be so distanced when looking up at the stars and knowing other people see the same North Star, the same Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt… We all feel closer somehow, when feeling so small. There is something that makes us cling together when we are reminded of our humanity. And when we miss people, we cling to it even more.
This shooting star we saw, it was beautiful. Like nothing I have ever seen. What makes it more beautiful is knowing that perhaps a loved one somewhere saw it, too. Knowing that this shared knowledge has been experienced makes this memory its own North Star — the one that will never move.
These North Stars, these personal North Stars, they are what navigate us and focus us through life’s difficulties. The commonalities draw us together. Miles melt away — whether physical distance or emotional. And this is exactly what we need.