I wrote this short essay from a writing program I hosted with my friend, Bonnie Hutchinson, early this year. She’s facilitating it again during the Fall, and I’ll be joining, this time, as a participant. We’d love you to join us for the second cohort of Write From Your Heart.
Lift up your face, child,
and receive the stars.
When you first look
they all pierce and freeze you,
and then the sky begins to sway
like a cradle, they’re rocking,
and you give yourself up wholly
to be carried away, away.
- Gabriela Mistral, Chilean poet (1889-1957)
For as long as I can remember, stars have fascinated me. I’m not sure when it started, maybe because stars were abundant and visible in the town where I grew up in the Philippines during the 90s. Perhaps it was because I watched too much Pinocchio as a child and fell in love with the song “When You Wish Upon a Star,” sung by Jiminy Cricket.
Whatever the reason, I developed this habit of looking for the first star every night and wishing upon it.
I wish it wouldn’t rain tomorrow.
I wish I’d pass my Math quiz.
I wish I’d get a bike of my own.
I wish…
Looking back, they felt petty, but wishing for something good to happen and having a sense of hope carried on with me.
In my grandmother’s house, where my family used to live, we had a rooftop balcony. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was a space to go to when floods happened. The area where we lived was prone to flash floods during severe typhoons, so most houses had a second floor or, in our case, a balcony.
My siblings and I camped in the sweltering heat on the balcony during summer nights. Armed with flashlights, junk food, and my brother’s guitar, we would lay our woven mats on the cemented floor. We would take turns telling stories, laugh at my brother’s jokes, and sing love songs. When we had enough of the chips and soda and our throats hurt from too much singing, we would lay on our backs and stare at the star-filled sky.
“Look, a falling star!” my sister exclaimed.
We would count as many falling stars as we could, but we couldn’t keep track. Those nights, under the blanket of stars, we shared our hopes and dreams, our woes, and our longings. Sometimes, we shared about our secret crushes and how they crushed our hearts. Other times, we would be quiet, left in our thoughts, and enthralled with the universe's vastness. At that time, we were teenagers without much care in the world. The future was distant, and, in those moments, we were content. Life was simple.
My fascination with stars expanded to the planets and the universe. In high school, I spent a reasonable amount of time in the library poring over big encyclopedia books on the solar system. I even wrote an amateurish poem on it, expressing my genuine love for the celestial objects dotting the night sky.
It wasn’t because I wanted to be an astronaut, although my dream at one point was to become an astronomer. Since I wasn’t good at physics and math, I ditched the idea and majored in film. My love for the cosmos didn’t have anything to do with astrology, although my older sister used to be passionate about it and would start conversations with, what’s your star sign?
For me, there was something mysterious and alluring about the idea that we wouldn’t exist without stars. At a young age, I knew that I was a speck of dust in the massive universe. The thought thrilled and frightened me at the same time. I was nothing and everything.
When an old lover with a penchant for physics and dark matter told me, “We’re made of stardust,” I was in love! Not with him, but with the notion that we’re all connected. If we’re made of stardust, a part of you is in me, and a part of me is in you. How incredible is that?
It’s funny how we forget our beginnings—from hot, tiny particles grouping, expanding, and taking up space to form stars and galaxies. The building block of humanity, our DNA, consists of elements made by stars.
While I don’t see as many stars as I used to, I still make it a habit to look for one or two. This time, instead of a wish, I say a prayer of gratitude that of all the supernovae that exploded in the universe, I was given this one chance to live my life and shine bright.
I’m curious to know…
What’s your best childhood memory?
What do you have a penchant for?
Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments or hit the heart below.
This is so beautiful, Frances! Thanks for sharing it, and thanks for sharing the platform.