Ode to Sky
Taking a moment to look up and look out.
Family road trip.
We went to the beach and then the lighthouse. The sun had finally begun to set, drenching everything in molten gold. The air tasted unmistakably of salt and seaweed and the wind whipped at our clothes and hair and when the sunlight hit the glassy waves just so, the ocean’s surface looked like it was made of diamonds. This heady medley made it impossible to hold on to any worries, even if just for this one day.
I love the sky where I live. Especially during the summer. It’s this infinite expanse of blue with a few clouds scattered here and there. Calm. Makes you forget the bitterness of the real world. It feels like the universe is bestowing upon you a rare smile. Like, just for now, everything is okay. Everything will be okay. It’s so precious to me. And it’s right there. All it asks is for you to notice it. Like a benediction, long-awaited and ill-deserved.
Dusk. The sun, determined to put on a spectacular show in its dying moments, transformed the sky into a kaleidoscope of colour. Vast swathes of iris were daubed with streaks of tangerine, and a rosy blush spilt onto it all, as if the sky was embarrassed at its own loveliness.
And before you know it, nightfall. At last.
There they are. The stars, with their velvety backdrop of blue so dark it looks black.
The universe. And me. Insignificant, and all-important. Tiny, yet powerful.
I find myself invoking the name of every stargazer that has come before me, names I don’t know and never will, belonging to people that have stood where I stand and dared to do something as human as to look up. To be able to just turn one’s face heavenward and wonder – this is the greatest of all gifts.