Life Anew

I saw the Universe today. In our elementary science books, I remember how they would show pictures of what the perceived Universe looked like. I always imagined what it would be like to be in space and see all creation. I knew then that I wanted to be an astronaut.

One Christmas, I awoke to the bright lights of our Christmas tree and a sizeable misshapen gift in front of it. My tiny heart expanded in disbelief. We were what one would call poor. Christmas gifts were things of necessity, not the stuff of dreams. I sat in front of the gift and stared at it. My mother was not yet awake. How did she even know? We don’t speak of these kinds of things. My hand made an air outline of the gift. In all my 13 years, at that moment, it was the happiest I had ever been.

My mother finally entered our living room along with my baby sister. My mother sat on the couch with her coffee. My baby sister, 13 months, crawled over to me and sat in my lap. Her tiny hands pressed against my face as she gave me the baby kiss she loved to share. I smiled at her and then looked at my mother.

“Go ahead,” she said.

I moved my sister from my lap. I controllably ripped the wrapping from the gift and then sat in silence. It was beautiful- my telescope. I was on my way to becoming an astronaut. That night my mother helped me set up the telescope under the night sky. No cold weather could stop me. The moon was in its waning crescent phase. It took us a few minutes, but soon, I saw where I wanted to visit before my eyes, where I would visit someday.

I don’t know what happened between that night and the several years after. Maybe it was my sister, three, getting sick with pneumonia. Perhaps it was watching her in the hospital getting worse. It was possibly watching my mother drift deeper into her depression after my baby sister did not leave the hospital. Maybe it was taking care of the household to help my mother.

I did not mind it. My mother was broken. Was I broken? I looked out at the moon in its completion phase. I wondered if my sister watched me from the Universe. I wished I could see her again. A year changed nothing. Except my father coming back wanting to see the girls he left behind.

He showed up on our doorstep with flowers for my mother and matching dresses for my sister and me. He had hope in his eyes. I watched him sit on our couch. I then watched my mother walk into the living room. Her hair was in a sleek ponytail because I got up early enough to brush it. She stared at him. Then she looked at me. When she saw the matching dresses beside him, nothing could stop it. Her cheeks were soon covered in tears. A year changed nothing.

I guided her back to her room to lay down. When I came back, he was looking around and called her name. He called my sister’s name. Did he really not know? I guessed when he left, he really left.

“She isn’t here,” I told him.

“Oh, she is at school. That is my bad. I can wait until she gets home.”

The years passed. I was no astronaut. I had a hardened heart for what we all yearned for, love. I stopped dreaming of the Universe. I had become numb. I was 25, working in a bank. I watched people go in and out. Depositing money I would never see in my lifetime. I saw them living while I was only existing. Mom, she had gotten better. The days ran together, and I had no desire to dream.

I sat on our same weary couch. We needed a new couch. My mother walked in with more light in her eyes. I don’t know what was different about today, but she was more stunning. She was always a gorgeous woman, but today she radiated life. She joined me on the couch with her coffee. I could feel her eyes on me. She turned toward what I stared at—my telescope.

“You loved that telescope,” she started. “You and I never spoke about much. Not our feelings. Not our dreams. Nothing. I am sorry for that. That I was not open enough for you. You ever wonder how I knew to get that telescope?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sometimes.”

“Those science books. Words are not what I am best at. But actions, I can see those. And I saw how often you were buried in those books. I saw how you dreamed. My love, please don’t stop dreaming. Thank you for what you have done for me after your sister, but you need to live. Why don’t you take your telescope to the park? Start watching again.”

“Mom, I have no desire to do that anymore.”

I could feel her heartbreaking. But I had no energy to do anything I loved.

“I am going to go shop for a new couch,” I told her. And I left for the local furniture store.

I don’t remember when it happened. Did I stop before my baby sister got sick? Was that the turning point? Or was it from the day he had left us? I am not sure. But the ache in my soul was more prominent today.

I walked the near-empty aisles of the furniture store. The stale music made me cringe. The blinding light was too white for anyone’s sake. Why were furniture stores so dull? My feet made their way in front of each other of no act of my own. My body wanted to move; it wanted more than I could give.

I stood in front of an oversized sectional. It was black with two armrests. It had two chaises, one on each side of the sectional. It was perfect. It was a new start. I could hear the steps coming closer and then standing a safe distance away from me. I continued to stare at the sectional. I was wondering what memories it would provide. Would it help the ache in my heart? His voice interrupted me.

“You have to sit on it to get the full experience.”

My heart whispered to me. She hummed in wonder. My hands began to sweat, and my right ear had a ringing sound. The sound of space drifted towards me, and I could feel the stars looking at us.

“Did you have any questions?” he asked.

Then I turned. I knew him. In time and space, I recognized him. A shooting star crossed his sand-colored eyes. I could see worlds and lands I had only seen in my dreams. Around us was no longer a furniture store but the dark matter of space. He stood with me on the surface of the moon. My soul knew him, and it was happy to be near him. I took my eyes off him to view our surroundings, and I saw the Universe in all. I saw myself floating in that astronaut suit. I saw myself living.

When I turned to look back at him, things were as they were. Normal.

“Do I know you?” He smiled and asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Not sure at that moment, one thing I did know for the first time in a long time. I dared to dream again.