Tonight I went out to feed our dogs and the calming heaviness of the humid air startled me. I looked up at the sky – and was entranced. I realized that never during this nightly task which I rush through just to get to other tasks to rush through, had I ever stopped and looked up and the clear, dark sky. Something urged me to lay on the cold, damp tile patio, garnished with grit from days of dog and child play. I tilted my head and stared at the vast, unwavering night sky. Oddly enough, star after star seemed to appear before my eyes as I grew accustomed to the lack of light. I smelled the sweet dryness of dirt, green grass and dog. The chirping, humming, buzzing air conditioners spoke to each other in some wayward tongue. And I started crying. And I couldn’t stop. Tear after fat, moist tear carved a path down the day’s soot that had settled like a veil upon my face. I cried because of the immenseness and unchanged beauty of the sky. I cried because I missed my grandfather, and I cried because life is such a beautiful and heartbreaking dichotomy. I wept because I know how insignificant we all are, yet how we each control a minute universe of our own making. Our friends, our family, our experiences, we are all separate celestial bodies orbiting the same sun. And I cried because I’m a silly girl who never realizes how tired, or lonely, or worried, or happy she, is until I pause and feel that burden slip away.

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