Calm, Simple Night

Space holds a deep place in my heart.

Its chaotic but organized structure appeals to a part of me that likes a balanced mess and, in a way, brings me comfort that I can't find anywhere else—like a soul-binding reassurance that's been with me ever since the universe made itself known.

I can remember the exact moment when I fell in love with the space above. It's a memory I can see clearly, and it made me realize how much detail is in this reality.

Though the memory is a simple one that is shaped by my childhood point of view. It's a memory that calms me down during times when things get overwhelming.

It was some night, the season not memorable as I wasn't paying much attention to time back then, and I was sitting in the passenger seat with my mom driving.

It was a relatively calm night in town as we drove down the main street. The darkness of the night made the store lights shine brightly, contrasting with the shadows that flooded buidings around.

My dad asked a mundane thing about dinner from the backseat, a seat placement that hasn't changed since I was born. Even as a young child, I was important enough to sit in the passenger seat.

We settled on a fast-food place, but the exact building I wanted to go to passed by us, and my heart got heavy.

I don't know why it bothered me, but I didn't let my tears fall. My eyes drifted to the radio as "This One's for the Girls" by Martina McBride played, and I began to feel my heart drop more than it already had.

I don't know why it bothered me so much, but my eyes went to the window, and I slowly looked up to see a single star shining high above.

At that moment, a calm, simple night turned the world into something more.

I saw life expanding before me into a layered reality that told me that life was more than what I saw.