Illumine

I sit at my desk, tapping my pen to the paper. What would he want me to say? What would he want to hear? I have no idea. But I really want to get it right. I look out my window, into the night, hoping for inspiration to hit, and am greeted by the flat, white face of a bird. It’s a barn owl, the first I’ve seen in a long time. He looks at me with wide eyes that draw me over to the window to get a better view of my new friend. The glass feels like an intrusive barrier so I struggle for a minute to shove the old window open.

An invigorating breeze blows my long hair over my shoulders, giving me a slight chill. I stare out at the towering trees that graze past my second floor window to provide a home for this feathered auspice.

“Hello Mr. Owl,” I say. His head cocks on its side and he stares at me for a minute. I begin to think maybe we’ve found some cosmic connection, but then something in the dark shifts, startling him and he takes off into the distance.

A deep sigh slips from my lungs and I look up into the sky searching for my familiar guardian, Orion. My eyes land on the three bright starts of his belt and then automatically begin to draw out the rest of his figure.

“What do you think? Is it too…” I let out a sigh of frustration. Why is this so hard?

“Okay…” I push my hands over my face and through my hair then slide into my chair to reread my words, yet again.

Dear Hanson,

I’m sorry to hear about your mother’s passing. I know when my mom left I was really sad. But I know that’s not the same as what you’re going through….

Ugh, I sound like a child. My eyes wander to the window once again as the stiff night air blows through the curtains.

I’ll take a walk to clear my thoughts. I push away from my desk and clumsily begin to pull on my boots.

I open my door slowly to minimise the creaking and tiptoe carefully through the hallway, down the stairs to the back door. Once I’m enveloped by the light of the full moon my breath eases out and rises to embrace the noises of the forest before me. My feet easily find the familiar path in the dark, wandering over familiar leaves and branches until I hear the quiet stirring of the creek. The nightlight sky illuminates the boulder that sits at a perfect distance, in the perfect place to gaze at the starlit constellations above and hear the calming creek nearby.

I stop in my tracks when I notice somebody is already sitting on it. My heart catches in my throat and I almost turn to run away, but then I recognise the shadowy blonde hair glinting off the moon’s light.

“Hey Hanson,” I call out in a soft voice. He startles a bit and turns to look at me. His shoulders begin to relax and I make my way over to him.

“Hey Maddi,” he sighs out. I place myself beside him, trying to gauge how close is too close. His body is positioned in a way that guards him from me. His eyes are glued to the water and he sniffs in a way that makes me wonder if he’s been crying.

We sit in deafening silence and I want nothing more than to comfort him, to know what to say, what to do, but nothing comes. My thoughts begin to wander to the inevitable, to his mother.

“You know,” I start, trying to figure out if this will help or not. I have no idea if it's anything that he might want to hear, but it’s where my thoughts have gone and I'm unsure what else to say. “Your mom was like a second mom to me when," I clear my throat to keep my emotions in check, "ya know, my mom left to chase her dreams in Cali." I pause to look at him, still guarded. "Your mom was always there, she was always really steady and I really appreciated that in her. She was always bringing my dad meals and inviting me over, I don’t know if you remember that.”

I look to see his body fighting to hide the emotions flooding through. Maddilyn you idiot. He succumbs to wracking sobs and hunches his face into his hands. My eyes well up in sympathy and my hands immediately go to his back awkwardly trying to comfort him. We sit together as his body shakes with the shock of grief that no one is ever prepared for, let alone this boy who has become a man overnight. I let my hands enclose him and rest my body against his in an effort to console him in the way that my mother used to do for me when I was small.

“We did used to have a lot of fun, didn’t we?” he sniffs, his voice coated in molasses lachrymose. I sit up and let my hands fall away, but keep one at his back.

“Yeah," I sniff and wipe away the secondhand sadness. "Remember we used to play all these imaginary pretend games,” I slip into a reverie of countless adventures we went on together, fighting pirates, becoming ninjas, masquerading on secret missions.

“What was that one?” he snaps his fingers trying to bring it more clearly to memory. “Uh, the one with the little, ahhh what were they?” He looks to me hoping that I can read his mind.

“Umm,” I chuckle, “Dude I have no clue.”

He starts snapping his fingers rapidly as the memory dawns on his face, “The watermelon seeds! Do you remember?”

“Wait,” I huff, leaning away from him, “The one where you tricked me into eating them by saying they were like magic beans? And then after I ate them you convinced me that I was going to birth a watermelon?" I ask incredulously, "That one?”

His halting laugh is full of restrained pain, “Yeah that one. I remembered it being funnier.” His smile is weak and his grief pervades toward me.

“You traumatised me!” I laugh in an effort to lighten his spirits. “My dad had to spend every night for two weeks trying to convince me that humans are incapable of birthing watermelons!” I give him a light shove and he responds with a light laugh.

“Seriously?” he says through a small smile.

“Seriously!" I laugh, "We had to have a whole discussion on the human reproductive system and anatomy and even then I still wasn’t 1000% convinced that I wouldn’t end up having to push a flipping watermelon out my birth canal!" We both burst into hysterics. "And it was all your fault!!”

He lets out a sigh that feels equal parts contentment and exhaustion. His hand wanders and starts tracing mine, “Good times.” His hand closes around mine for a second before he jumps off the boulder and walks closer to the water.

“Ya know,” he sighs as he picks up a small rock, “when I was born I think she wanted me to be a girl.” He throws the rock with masterful athletic agility. “I think that’s why she liked you so much.”

“She loved you,” I say as I slide off the boulder and make my way to him.

“Yeah,” he stares down at his hands. “I know she did." His melancholy escapes his mouth through a huff, "She was always putting me first.” He picks up a handful of rocks and starts throwing them one at a time into the brook. “Going to every game,” splash. “Even the practices,” splish. “She was always the one that I felt I could talk to about everything,” SPLASH! He throws the rest of the handful with all the force he can muster into the stream. His body bends down in angry agony and begins shaking with anguish.

“No matter what, even if it was stupid,” his voice whispers “It was never stupid to her.” His head ducks into his empty hands that pull through his hair until they land on his neck. “What am I going to do without her?” He glances at me like I might have the answer.

I don’t, but I want him to know that it’s going to be okay. “You know, when my mom left,” I sigh, “I thought my life was over." I look at my hands,"I had a lot of thoughts going through my mind, that I just wasn’t good enough, that maybe I just wasn’t worth sticking around for.” I glance his way so that he can see my eyes, “I know it's different for you because obviously she didn't choose to leave in the same way. But ya know, it's like one day everything is falling apart and you don't know what to do. And then one day, you find yourself figuring it out, finding a new way of surviving. And like for me, with your mom, other people will come into your life to fill the void and remind you that you're still worth loving."

He stares into my eyes for a little while before turning back toward the boulder. I follow him and we lay down side by side to gaze up at the stars that cover the sky, connecting all of humanity.

“Can I tell you something maybe really dumb?” I ask, turning my head to glance in his direction.

“Yeah,” he shrugs.

“Have I ever told you why I’m really into constellations?”

“No.”

“Well, when I was little my mom used to take me out here to go stargazing.” I see his head turn to look at me out of the corner of my eye. “We would lay out on this rock and she would point out all the constellations to me and tell me the stories behind them." I don't dare look at him, if I do I know I won't be able to keep the tears behind the dam. "We would stay out staring at the stars until I fell asleep. Then she would carry me to bed and that was kinda our nightly routine.” I risk a quick glance to take in his reaction.

His brow is furrowed and he lays propped up on his elbow, ready to listen.

I look back up to the stars, to the familiar constellations that have become my comfort. “When she left, I couldn’t sleep for a long time," my voice cracks. I shouldn't have looked at him. "And I would come out here, trying to remember the constellations she had pointed out, but it all just looked like dots." Tears start slipping down my face, "I couldn’t see them anymore. I would try to remember the stories the way she told them, but I could never remember all the details. I felt so lost and like there just wasn't any part of her that I could hold onto anymore."

I look at his face again and see that he’s got a teary film over his irises. I take a deep breath, “But then one day, Orion showed up. He was the first constellation I recognised on my own and I knew from then on that everything was going to be okay.”

We stare at each other, two kindred spirits grieving the loss of a mother. I rest my head on his shoulder and feel his arm wrap around me. We lay there together in the dark, illuminated by the moonlight and by each other’s stories. Perhaps feeling a little raw and broken, but less alone, knowing that it is possible for even our hidden parts to be seen.

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