Birthday Beneath the Stars

I didn’t come out here with a plan.
I didn’t intend to write anything at all.

I couldn’t make myself keep staring at those photographs, not tonight. I’ve been at it for hours. I’ve tried a few times since she told me. Her smile, her dress, her whole presence… It’s too much for my heart.

I stepped outside instead.

Now I’m here, sitting under a blanket of stars on my 41st birthday.

The sky is crisp like the air, the stars shining brightly against it and you can’t help but stop and take it all in with a kind of amazement. Out here, you become very aware of how small you are, and how you are still part of something larger.

I’m enjoying a simple PBJ and a cup of coffee. Chewy is tucked into my side like he’s determined to keep me grounded. I like to think I keep him grounded too, we are two souls who understand each other.

I tilt my head back and find the only constellations I ever remember: Orion’s Belt, the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper. They feel familiar, comforting, something I desperately need.

This doesn’t feel like a celebration.
Birthdays haven’t felt like celebrations in a while.
I can’t recall if I did anything for my fortieth.

It feels more like a life checkpoint, asking more questions than I have answers.

Tomorrow I’ll keep driving toward Alabama, to a house full of beautiful babies who call me Aunt Mamie. Tomorrow will be utter chaos in the best ways possible.

But tonight… It’s just me, this PBJ, Chewy, the hoot of a barred owl, and a sky bright enough to hold everything I can’t put into words.