Stars

STARS

Inspired by Ray Bradbury

It was a mild evening near the end of summer; the last rays of the setting sun lay red and golden on the grass and in the branches of the trees, and illuminated the bright hair of the women wandering the meadows in their thin summer dresses. The sun was in their eyes, the hot, slightly scorched smell of the day still hung in the air, as well as its particular taste. The air always felt fresher in the summer, whispering secrets and carrying scents from distant lands.

From far off the breeze carried the sound of laughter. Mr. and Mrs. Smith walked hand in together through the meadow, Mrs. Smith Stopping every now and then to pick daisies that nodded among the long grass like fine lords and ladies bowing to one another. Slowly, the light fell from the sky, turning it from gold, to blue, to dark blue, to black. The glittering specks of stars appeared in the night sky.

The children were home from school, waiting for them when they returned to their house. They had been given their dinner by the babysitter and were already in their pajamas. They all went onto the roof together, to where the large telescope stood, its sleek black form nearly invisible against the dark sky. Mr. and Mrs. Smith were last to climb up onto the roof, the babysitter, who was scared of heights, hanging behind, as always.

They looked up at the stars, long dead, burned out in their own universe, but still existing in our own, even if it was only as a memory. It filled them with a strange melancholy. Life was so short. Here they were, watching the stars with their children, and it seemed like only yesterday the children were babies, and not so long before that that they were still a young couple, courting, and Mrs. Smith wasn’t even Mrs. Smith yet. They thought of the years to come, when the children would grow up and leave home, the bittersweet feeling of the empty nest. Then the joy of grandchildren, perhaps, one day. Growing old together, sitting on the verandah, watching the sun set. Their children and grandchildren playing in the last of the daylight.

It was late, and time for the children to go to bed. Mrs. Smith took the daisy chain from around her neck, placing it gently around the neck of her youngest. ‘I wish they could stay young forever, I wish time could stay still forever, she murmured, leaning against her husband. He put his arm around her, pulling her close. ‘I know what you mean; everything just seems so perfect in this moment. I never want it to end. But they can't stay innocent forever. The world can't stay innocent forever. We all have to grow up.’ ‘I know’, his wife murmured, ‘I know.’ A single tear ran down her cheek, cold and shining as quicksilver and was gone in an instant. As if it never was.

Far away in the darkness of space, on some far distant planet, which Mr. and Mrs. Smith had never heard of, yet alone seen, someone looking through a telescope saw the tear glitter for a moment as it fell through the darkness of space. ‘A shooting star’, they whispered, ‘make a wish.’