Sky

You haven’t ever contemplated the sky at 2am in your backyard while you wait for the dog to go pee. However, at other times, you certainly have. Sitting on the patio chairs that you and your wife moved out from the patio enclosure so you could be closer to the acres and acres of grape vines. The lights of the cars visible as they drove to and fro on the country roads; one and then after along while, another. The dry grass cut short and prickly underfoot. The drone of the cicadas crescendoing, then falling and stopping; a brief respite before starting all over again.

The wine bottle within easy reach, tucked neatly between the chair legs. And the sky. Now dark. Stars just starting to announce themselves. You feel yourself breath. Long deep breaths. The kind that are true and genuine; the kind you feel like you has been holding in for months.

You wonder how this is possible. This oasis; this haven, this sanctuary to which you have sought refuge. Only two hours ago you were in the city. Only two hours ago you were encased in concrete and glass and one-way roads and construction which suffocates life to a standstill. The city where you only see pieces of sky:

cerulean with wisps of ivory clouds from the backyard

blazing lavender sunsets from the office

an austere cobalt, bright and sharp as knife’s blade as you drive to work.

Separate pieces, as if they are clues to a whole so awesome, so unfathomable that you are not able or not allowed to view due to your inability to comprehend.

And you live with this arrangement, the tacit understanding that you will only ever have one parcel; one expression of the infinite possibility of the sky. You try your best not to think about it. Because when you do, your chest tightens and your breath gets shallower as you stuff your yearning to be enveloped by the edge-less impossible expanse, deep, deep down.

On the days when you can’t do it fast enough; when you can’t quash this feeling, a scream that you can no longer contain barrels out of your lungs and hurls itself out of your mouth. Exhausted, you topple backwards onto the cool grass, face up at your turquoise allotment and squeeze you eyes shut; as tight as you can.