Tag: grandeur

One of the advantages of growing up in the country in Alabama was the clear view I had of the night sky. As a child, I got used to seeing billions, maybe trillions of stars—I don’t really know, there were far too many to count. Stars were a given for me, along with the noisy nighttime chorus of cicadas, crickets and frogs. Now I live in Ireland, where most nights the clouds pull themselves over me like a duvet. Under these covers my town is equipped with rows of man-made lights that imitate and compete with the stars, so even when the duvet is lifted, I might—on a good night—be able to count a dozen stars. But I know better. I know what’s really out there in those seemingly dark, empty spaces—I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I remember the sparkling host, the glittering crowd, the innumerable army of light with its clustered regiments and flag-bearing constellations. Can I be honest? I miss them.

Continue reading I Miss The Stars