She was the stuff of stars…

And it hit her, much in the way she imagined creation, all at once, electric. A crackling and popping so loud it silenced her mind for the first time. It was as if she felt everything in a millisecond, all the fear, love, excitement, joy, sorrow, disappointment, anger, pity, happiness, anticipation. Wave after wave crashing over her, enveloping her until she understood it all. She knew her purpose. It was spelled out for her in the galaxy above. She was the stuff of stars.

She always knew she felt this way, connected to something greater. She never could quite explain it and she felt like doing so would isolate her even further from the people around her. She felt it in her fingertips when she let her hands linger on the bark of trees. She felt it in her toes, when they reached into the sand at the water’s edge to gain footing on a shore beneath her that was constantly shifting. At times, she swore she could feel the earth’s rotation and dreamed of times when she would see with her own eyes the other side of the world.

Summers were spent listening to the ocean, straining to hear hidden messages in the warm breeze.This was always the place she came back to. Always at the ocean’s edge, waiting. Convinced that the place she came from would call her home or at least show her a way to exist among the others.

She occupied an adult body, which was by definition a “she”, although she wasn’t convinced she could be defined truly. She observed the young ones and her spirit, her inside, the thing that couldn’t be visualized, X-rayed, scanned or prodded….felt young, new…fresh. She identified her spirit with them, the young ones.

The older ones didn’t find joy in the things she did. Well, most didn’t. She had encountered a select few that were like her and she wondered if they were…like her. She just wanted to get back home. Whatever home was. She heard people talking about it and assumed they knew some mysterious secret that she did not and no one could really put a singular definition on what “home” was. It seemed it was different for everyone. She hoped to go there, right after she was done here. She knew there was work to be done here first, before the earth would open up and be a voice loud enough for her to follow.

Photo credit: Jason D. Page