Stars.

I made my bed beneath the stars. It was starting to get dark out and the nighttime was my favorite because it was always so peaceful. I did my best thinking then and I looked forward to trying to count all of the stars and making a wish on one or two. I sat down on my blanket and I stretched. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a barn owl silently gliding over the field. He must have been hunting for food. Slow and graceful. A nocturnal predator. I laid down in the grass and I continued to watch the owl fly. Wondering what that must be like, I closed my eyes. Spreading my imaginary wings, I could feel the wind beneath them as I began to soar. Hunting for food like the owl. He reminded me that I was hungry. I sat up and reached for the apple I had in my bag. Juicy and red, it was gone in seconds. And so was the owl. I guess he had also found his snack. I laid back down and I stared at the night sky. It was finally dark and every single star was out. Thousands of tiny sparkling lights. Beautiful to look at, impossible to count. I wondered how far they really were. And I thought about the owl. How close could he fly to any one of those stars if he tried? I thought about heaven. What type of view do the angels have of the night sky? Do they appreciate the starts like I do? What about the owl? Does he know how lucky he is to be able to fly? The moonlight on his wings, he can go anywhere. Almost like an angel with their wings, flying through the heavens. Losing count of all the stars because they’re going too fast to count them. To be an angel or an owl or anything else with wings. How far could I fly? How close could I get to heaven and all of the stars? I close my eyes and I smile. The wind gently blowing across my face and my body and it almost feels like I’m floating. Slowly, I drift off to sleep. And then I begin to dream. I have wings. I’m flying and I’m close enough to touch the stars. I grab a couple and I put them in my pockets. I’m glowing. Sparkling and flying. I float up to heaven. I open my eyes. The barn owl is back, watching me dream. I say hello to him. I wonder if he wonders about what it’s like to be me. A human on the ground who doesn’t have to hunt for food if I don’t want to. A human without wings. How unlucky. I wonder if the angels, like the owls, consider me unlucky because I cannot fly? Only on an airplane. And there isn’t anything magic about that. But oh well. I’m happy to dream. I can eat apples and lay in the grass and think about heaven. I can lookout for shooting stars and make wishes. I can dream of life as an owl, gliding through the night. I can pretend to be an angel, watching the owl fly through the heavens. It’s peaceful here and I’m happy, just laying beneath the stars, losing count of how many there are. Watching owls fly and thinking of angels. I wonder what they dream of? The boring life of a human being? Maybe. I close my eyes again. I made my bed beneath the stars and it was time to dream again.