star born

The crawl to winter is the time in which my living room window could hang in an art gallery. On clear days, the sun rises orange and linear.  When the sky is consumed by fog and cloud, it as if there is no world beyond my panes.

I don’t stand in awe during the summer months. But I am not encapsulated when it is warm. Instead the balcony door opens before the dog is fed, and smell takes over from the immediate visual of the outside. What is being consumed by my neighbours below?  Why do some feel the urge for cannabis at such early hours?

The morning was frosty, and the sky was aglow. I stared out my window for a few minutes before bundling up so that the dog could have his moment outside.  Orange faded into yellow faded into blue, and we carefully crossed the street to avoid sliding down its slippery, sheened slope.  When the dog found his usual pole, I turned around.  There was still a sliver of moon visible, but that is not what caught my eye.  Above and to the right of the moon, was the shiniest of brights.  Star? Satellite?

While I didn’t know what I was looking at, I did hear it.  “We see you,” it said, “but we can’t be there for you.” Has anyone else heard the souls of their still living parents, from a bright sparkle in the morning sky? I’m old enough now, that I do not question such things.

I balanced my faith with a bit of fact. Reached to a friend who knows. “Venus,” she informed, “It is right now at its very closest, so very brightest.” Venus. Love.

Your gratitude posts. Your family is everything words.  I don’t grieve an intangible parent, a parent who lay lifeless in front of me. I grieve not being seen, and so left to this particular job that is now the work of my life.

“You realize we are sisters again, now that we are free.”

“Yes,” she said.

I was at the ready for her birth, kept her steady in the tub, and put my cape on – my housecoat and rollers – when she ran.  But now we walk into real conversations, ones about what we made for dinner and do you like yoga pants.  When I am anxious her text appears, asking me how I am feeling.

I had no idea that when a man left his body a door would open and show me my life.  Turn me around and put the dominoes back up.  He stands at the helm of an army of soldiers, quietly protecting me.  My parents stand together, on shiny love.  I march, eyes to the sky.

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