Bringing in the Stars

Apr 22 , 2019

MICHAL LIDER

Bringing in the Stars

I remember having star-shaped glow in the dark stickers on my bedroom ceiling when I was young. I remember laying in bed at night just staring at them, wide-eyed. I would keep still under the sheets waiting. Then, after a few moments, I would be enveloped by this feeling of awe and excitement all at the same time. The same one I would feel whenever I would stay out at night many childhood summer nights ago in the countryside.

My chest would well up with joy and wonder at the night sky. I couldn’t help but marvel at what’s painted above me. Sometimes, I would wish for a shooting star to cut across the dark expanse so I can make a wish.

I know. I was a quirky kid. Wishing for a wish.

I can recall the day when I first found out about these luminous stickers. I got them as a Christmas present from my folks. They knew how fascinated I was by all things outer space. Oh, how excited I was! To bring the stars indoors, in my bedroom, for me to enjoy whenever I want. It was a dream!

My parents left me to it to arrange the stickers into constellations, other galaxies, sometimes even into hidden messages on my walls and ceiling. It felt like I was creating my own little world (and I guess I was). Sometimes, I would even imagine myself a space explorer, going where no man has gone before.

I have my own kids now, and living in the city makes it hard for them to see the stars at night. There’s just too much light pollution. We don’t get to visit much of the countryside either due to something called work. But being the parent that I am I want them to have the same sense of awe I did when I was a kid. I don’t want them to miss out on that.

So if I can’t bring them to the stars, I’ll bring the stars to them.

Thank heavens for the geniuses who invented these glow in the dark stickers.

As corny as it sounds, these small pieces of hope have made my dark days a little brighter. If those stars could talk though, boy. The stories they would tell.

I guess now that I’m older, I get to realize how precious those opportunities were; the chances I got to experience the magic of staring up in space and feeling as though there are a million eyes looking back. Some even winking at me as if to say I’ll be alright, and that the future is bright.

Don’t get me wrong. Even back then I knew how special it was to have that fantastic, stellar view. What I’m saying is my appreciation has grown even more now that I, we, don’t get to see it as often as we’d like.

For now, my kids will get the next best thing. A room filled with stars and, hopefully, a mind full of wishes.


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