She held the star map between her hands as soon as we reached the top of the mountain, and rushed to locate the stars that I thought were twinkling in her eyes. That’s how she has always been, delightfully puzzling, with sight that exceeded Earth. She named the visible stars for me, with joy, pointing at each one of them, as I looked at her, ignorant of what she mastered. She enjoyably told me the story of the ancient egyptians and Sirius star, and whispered, “I carry a single molecule of every star in the sky within my blood.” I admired her insanity that absolutely contradicted my reality; the reality of a biologist.
She led me to the gates of her world, the world where imagination is sacred, and comforted me by reminding me of the triumph of Angels who fought Demons. She showed me Jupiter, clearly seen in the pure night as I captivated both her and Jupiter in my heart. She reminded me of my long-neglected dream of becoming an astronaut.
I was Earth, and she was the invisible soul of the universe that breathed my hopes and hidden dreams. She reminded me, that I forgot how to live.