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The Starry Night

April 26, 2015

Saturday. April 25th. 2015.

1 a.m.

The five of us are lying on top of a hill, right behind B’s cottage. The night is clear; the stars glisten. It’s breathtaking. Below us is the lake. The light bounces off it; the waves shimmer. It’s so quiet, but we are not. I’m lying in the middle of the four, surrounded by an envelope of old friendships and new friendships.

A is half asleep. B and J tell us a story that they just made up. I’m laughing myself silly. I tell them to stop because my stomach is hurting too much. I turned to S and tell him through giggles that I have to plug my ears because I just can’t take it anymore; tears are streaming down my face, and my stomach is asking for a break.

B gets up to go retrieve more blankets. I tell a story, and J makes fun of me. I roll around laughing with hysteria. B returns, and I roll back into place. I think to myself that I have not laughed like this in so many years. So many. Maybe, even, in all of my life.

J says he just saw a shooting star. I exclaim with glee, where? S tells me to wait. I’ve never seen a shooting star before, I tell them. B asks, really? Really, I say.

I ask S how come there aren’t any now. He tells me, you have to be patient. I listen to him and wait. I’m still waiting, and then I see one.

I saw one! My first one! I exclaim. But it was so fast, I added disappointedly. J and B snicker in the background as they make an inappropriate joke about how the first is always the fastest. I laugh again. S points to the sky and tells me about the constellations. I see two more shooting stars just a few minutes after the first one.

Make a wish, I tell myself. Make a wish! I tell the others.

B says, I wish for a thousand more shooting stars. I laugh. Make a wish! I tell myself.

But I couldn’t think of anything to wish for. Truly. Honestly.

All my life, I’ve been wishing for things. I’ve even been wishing to see shooting stars, so that my wishes could be more “legitimate.” But now, finally, with three shooting stars, I couldn’t think of anything to wish for.

Because truly and honestly, I was so happy in that moment. It was a perfect kind of happiness—one where you’re so unaware of yesterdays and tomorrows. One where you are so unaware of anything, just aware of this feeling.

I don’t know how to describe it. Time did not seem to exist in that moment. In fact, nothing seemed to exist except for the five of us, stories, laughter, and The Starry Night.

I wish for more moments likes these.

van Gogh

van Gogh

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