The Knowing

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Swirling glittery auras scatter about the horizon like ghosts spiraling farther and farther into the distance. The sister of our daily sunset, midnight was an irresistible invitation to open up curtains, to step onto the rooftop, to pause on an evening stroll and look up at the sky. It was common for 8-year old Evelyn to see her neighbor on the balcony just one foot away from her own, out in her robe, crossing her arms with a cigarette stuck to her lips. She frequently had her salt and pepper hair up in a messy bun and wore brightly colored pajama pants that Evelyn thought to be notably expensive-looking in contrast to the weathered robe. While the neighbor gruffly gazed into the sky with seemingly no emotion, speckles of people on their rooftops swarmed together in awe of the earth. They all foolishly believed that this was a gift for them directly from the arms of the universe. But she knew, she always knew this was somehow meant for her.

Evelyn was contentedly unusual. She never necessarily felt out of place or like an outcast – but more-so like an extension of anyone she ever met. When anyone looked at her skeptically, made snide remarks about her demeanor or misjudged her in a matter of seconds, she didn’t think much of it. She was more concerned with people’s history, what their mother looked like, what their favorite stuffy was when they were a child, whether they were scared of dogs or elevators or loud noises and why. She looked curiously and purposefully into the eyes of everyone she ever encountered, more often than not leaving them incredibly uncomfortable. Most people are afraid of being seen, so she was often alone- but she seldom felt lonely.

She hadn’t ever spoken to her neighbor but she felt oddly comforted by their nightly ritual. She guessed her name was something like Elvira, or Winifred - Something softly regal for her undeniable witchy beauty and curiously strong and silent presence. Evelyn would sneak glances at her, wildly curious about her story. She wondered what her spirit looked like, what shape it was, what color pallette would most accurately compliment her soul. Whether her voice was scratchy or smooth and silky, or if she even spoke at all. Even if she didn’t, words didn’t feel necessary between her and Maybe-Elvira/Possibly-Winifred. It was like they had built an entire relationship through simply being in the same place at the same time to witness the same sky.

Nearly every midnight they emerged on their balconies around the same moment without meeting eyes or speaking a word. Tonight Evelyn felt particularly entranced by the evening sky. It was like a ballet for the galaxies, singing and dancing in a way that no words would ever be able to capture. The knowing in Evelyn’s heart was effortlessly strong on any given day, but tonight was the night that would unlock something new.

After a few moments, she reached her arm out toward the moon without hesitation, without knowing why. Starting from her sternum and blooming through her chest and her throat, she felt a calming warmth as though a motherly spirit placed their hand through her chest. Sometimes body sensations scared her but this one invited a quick laugh out of her at the absurdity of how sweet it felt. She closed her eyes and allowed the energy to flow, taking a deep diaphragmatic breath and wiggling her fingers outward.

The tips of her fingers began to tingle, like she was submerging her hand into fine sand. Upon exhaling, Evelyn opened her eyes to see the entirety of the sky pulled right in front of her. She gasped, mouth open, pure awe. She could see everything, all at once. All was eerily silent except for the twinkling that seemed to penetrate her very bones. The dance had come to personally greet her, to dance with her, to swirl around her extended arm and caress it lovingly. In her widened eyes reflected the lights of the aura, turning her dark brown irises into a pool of glittery gold.

*Blink.*

Evelyn found herself transported back into present time and space with her arm outstretched into a blank sky. She stared at her arm, now illuminated by nothing other than the moon and the dim fairy lights from her room. The startling silence was met with a strong sense of being witnessed by her neighbor. She looked over cautiously, arm still reaching, to meet eyes with her. The middle-aged woman faced her, unfolded her arms to slap her hands on the railing and let out a loud sigh.

She smiled, flicking her cigarette over the balcony, “It’s about Goddamn time, kiddo.”