“Pretty, isn’t it?” I asked, as I gazed up at the night sky.

“Huh? What do you mean?” she replied, her eyes fixed on her ice cream.

“The stars”
“Can you see those stars that look like a kite?”

“They all look the same to me”

“There.”
“Just follow where my fingertips”

“Oh, I see it”

~

I was just a kid back then – I was 6 or probably 5, perched on the back of my dad’s aging motorcycle. The road appeared blurry as we sped along, but the night sky was crystal clear. I was fixated on a particular constellation that looked like a kite. As we rode back home through the dark road, I only focused on that kite constellation, wondering what happened out there – beyond the night sky. That was probably my first memory about the stars.

Years passed, and I found myself on a mountain with my friends. At the summit, we gathered around a bonfire beneath a star-studded sky. Despite the rain during our ascent, the sky had cleared, and the stars shone brightly 2500 meters above sea level. We sipped warm tea, shared stories and laughter while gazing to billion of stars above us. The bonfire’s warmth barely reached us, but the stories we shared warmed our hearts.

I also remembered gloomy day at the beach not so long ago. It was one evening on the beach with my former love, under the radiance of a full moon. The night was devoid of many stars, and we were in the midst of a silent argument. Few words were exchanged, but the crashing waves spoke volumes about our situation. The sea breeze carried a mix of tension and longing.

~

And then, in the hustle and bustle of my work life, I realized how seldom I looked up at the night sky. I faced the impending workdays, one after another. The city’s lights had become my stars, twinkling on screens and as I passed by streetlamps. With a beer in my left hand and a cigarette in my right I yearned to fill the void in my life. In the midst of chaos and uncertainty, I wonder if the stars still sparkled above or if they had migrated to the screens and city lights I now traversed.