6th February, 2018
It was nearly midnight, and we had all gone to bed a while back, when my mother knocked on our bedroom door.
“Come and see the stars,” she whispered.
Confused, we pulled jumpers over our heads and followed her through the shared lounge room, trying to keep quiet and not disturb the other guests of the inn. We stepped out into the backyard and walked delicately over the pebbled path to where my father was standing, very still, on the driveway.
As my skin adjusted to the cold and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realised that the stars in the sky were unlike anything I had ever seen in my life. The longer I stared at the sky, the more I could see above me. I could not believe how many stars there were, not how brightly they sparkled. I was entranced, and flung my head back, face upwards to the sky, my neck beginning to ache.
The sheer amount of tiny lights in the sky was phenomenal. There were stars everywhere, extending to every corner of the sky, and right over our heads stretched a concentrated band of stars, like a bridge of sparkling lights from one horizon to the other. It was absolutely beautiful.
Standing there together in the cold, necks craning to the sky, was such a spiritual experience. We could see the Big Dipper and the Southern Cross, and a myriad of other constellations and shapes. My mother and I even saw a shooting star and burst out in whispered excitement.
That night under the stars was, undoubtedly, one of the most surreal and incredible things I have ever experienced. I could suddenly understand, there in the backyard, why astrology has been some prominent throughout time. I could understand the captivation that the constellations can ignite, the intrigue woven into the patterns of the heavens. To live and sleep under these stars would be magical.