Clear Night.

I sit at the table in our small back garden, ice-cold drink in hand. The condensation on the glass is refreshing under my fingertips. A little light leaks from inside the house, not enough to read by, but I don’t want to anyway. Now is the time to collect my thoughts.

The air is finally cool, the gentle breeze a relief on my clammy skin, dissipating the midsummer heat. Tempers fray in the hot weather. Waves of impatience break against small irritations that bubble to the surface. We all share a common trait of stubbornness, which doesn’t help matters. The evening air cools hot, messy resentments to a gentle simmer, before evaporating them entirely.

It’s a clear night and the stars are out, despite a hint of pale blue still visible on the horizon where the sun has set not an hour before. The light pollution isn’t too bad out here, away from the big city. Jupiter and Venus shine brightly, proudly, as if to say “I’m here, look at me.” The waxing moon a pleasing crescent, a smile on the benevolent face of the sky. Bats occasionally flitter overhead, swooping low for insects.

I’m enjoying this moment of peace and calm when I hear the soft footsteps. A door quietly opening from inside the house. The patio doors are open and he appears, rubbing his eyes.

“I can’t sleep.”

Sit with me for a minute, I say. We sit with our feet up on the chair in front of us, heads tilted back, necks craned, gazing at the night sky. The stars come out one by one, twinkling for the two of us.