I examined the map of the stars that I sketched out on a piece of printer paper, the pen stopped working well halfway through and turned it into a mess of dotted lines and half-finished thoughts.
As I rose to my feet and spun with the Earth beneath me, I felt minuscule. The trees dwarfed me and yet everything else dwarfed the sky. The stars themselves, from where I watched, seemed smaller than me. Even though I was infinitely impossible, even though slowly spinning an irrelevant sun, I felt part of the process.
This idea comforted me.
I looked back at my map, the stars had formed an idea. Arranging themselves in a peculiar way, and ever moving still, I watched as the edges of the paper became limitless. I couldn’t hold it anymore, so I dropped it to the ground, but the stars only floated around me. Endless. Elegant. Enormous. I watched as they continued to spin until that familiar light lit up the distant horizon.
The stars sang the words “welcome home” as they parted the night sky.