The Startravellers

On a lovely summer night she stood in the swing decorating the porch. The smell of lilies, daisies, gardenias and roses, along all other little dwellers of the garden filled the warm June air with joy. The moon was high up in the sky, while the stars were smiling at the cosy, out-in-the-nowhere house just besides the pear plantation. Just as she was about to enjoy the pleasure of her cinnamon tea sweetened by the melody of the crickets, an old friend came to see her.

“Hi, what are you up to?” he asked.

“Well, you know, enjoying myself.”

“That’s good,” he said while sitting down, “what a lovely evening.”

“It is, isn’t it? What brings you here?”

“I got tired and thought I could use some good company…”

“Thanks.”

“No need to thank me.”

They laughed. They really liked these simple dialogues. They knew what the other was going to say but it was sweet. It reminded them of the child games they played when they were little – the ones that are pretty much the same every time, but still never fail to amuse.

“Hey, remember how we played when we were little?” – she continued.

“How can I ever forget those boring games…”

“How rude of you! I was the one who thought those up… besides, no one forced you to play. Why did you?”

“It was sweet, that’s why.”

“How so?”

“Because when you played you smiled. And when you smiled, I was happy.”

“You will make me blush if you go on like that. Please stop it…”

“But the best part was when you won. It took me a lot of effort to forgo my childish pride and let you beat me, but it was always worth it.”

“It all seems like yesterday…”

“Wasn't it yesterday?” – he stated with strange confidence.

“Not exactly… well, we still play similar games though.”

“Hey, my stories are no games! They are as real as fairies!”

“Fairies aren’t very real, my dear Startraveller.”

“Well, do you mean to say that you are very surreal yourself?”

“Not exactly… and by the way surreal isn’t really the right word here…”

“OK then, sorry, does ‘dreamy’ present a better choice of words? And by the way, what is this smile doing on your face?”

“Well… the tea was just that good,” she hiddenly beamed, “go on, tell me one of those stories.”

“Sure,” he concentrated, “have I told you of the star that was made of cotton candy?”

“I don’t know, but wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” – she drank another sip seemingly unfazed by her own childish interest.

“It is not much of a story. Though it was sweet.”

“How sweet?”

“Averagely so.”

“How so?”

“There are sweeter things in life.”

“Sweeter than cosmic candy?”

“Yes, much sweeter. I will show you.”

“How can you show me a taste?”

“It is a taste… nevertheless, it can also be tasted by the soul.”

“Show me then.”

“Do you know what this is?” – he asked as he pulled out a mirror from one of his pockets.

“Hey, I know this trick, it won’t work on me again!”

“Look.”

It did work. Nevertheless, she didn’t really mind. He continued:

“Have I told you about the star which was actually made of a bunch of little diamonds?”

“No, but more importantly, why didn’t you bring me a souvenir? You know what they say about girls and diamonds?”

“What do they say?”

“You know…”

“What?”

“They are wrong.”

“Why?”

“You are my best friend.”

“Thanks, but you are not a girl anyway!”

“How?”

“You are my best friend.”

“Thanks.”

“Besides, the diamonds… they were pretty much glass on the inside.”

“Isn’t it always like that.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s not like that with the true things in life. They are better when you get to know them on the inside.”

They knew it was true what he said. It has been confirmed.

“Hey, are there really such stars?” – she broke the brief silence.

“Have you seen all the stars?”

“No.”

“Then why do you think there aren’t candy stars or diamond stars?”

“When you put it this way…”

“What kind of star do you want me to tell you about then?”

“A good one.”

“None are better than you!”

“Hey, how can you say that?”

“It is a simple observation – an objective argument.”

“How so?”

“I share little memory with the other stars.”

“Thanks, but isn’t that compliment a little bit clichéd?”

“All good things in life are a little bit clichéd.”

“Aren’t they?”

They stood silent for a while. A very short while.

“Let’s count.” – he proposed.

“What’s the point?”

“It’s pointless!” – he said and they looked at each other knowing full well that there are far more pointless things in life.

“You know, I have become accustomed to your voice. It’s become like the silence to me.”

“Thanks…”

“And I realized… it was only after I came to enjoy your silence.”

Nothing more could be added so she did not reply. After all, he enjoyed their silence. She did too. Nevertheless, she counted - softly and in a gentle voice. Quietly.

“One, two, three…”

He listened and counted with her. He liked those little things they shared. It is nice to live for them, as long as it doesn’t become too complicated.

“…nine, ten, eleven…”

It really didn’t matter if things stayed the same. Yes, there must have been some compromises made along the way, even a lot, but that didn’t matter anymore. They were well worth it, necessary.

“…twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”

Some people saw in their lifetime all good things available to the touch.

“…thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven…”

Nonetheless, the two shared all good things which cannot be touched or seen or put into words. They shared the stars.

“…forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one…”

And it is not because they wanted it to be this way, it happened. Once they wished for many different things, but for one thing the most. They gave up on a lot so that they could have a little, but more than enough. Now they wish for one and the same.

“…sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four…”

They do not mourn what was given up rather they cherish what was gained. They could give their all to someone and that someone would not sleep, eat or breathe unless the favor was returned in kind. That was more than enough to make each of them happy, contempt.

“Hey,” he said, “number seventy-two shines very much like your hair on a sunny day.”

“Does it?”

“Yes, and look at those two stars that are really close to each other. They really remind me of the sparkle in your eyes.”

“Hey, stop that or I will really, truly blush!”

And she would. Relatively little was needed to trigger a smile - a real, honest one. She would get butterflies from the clichéd star and sky compliments each and every time. And he would watch her smile and smile back at her smile. It was simple.

“Are you sure?” – she asked through her gentle confidence.

Other people might have seen in her an ordinary woman. She had natural blonde hair, not that shiny or especially long. He thought it was soft and graceful. Her eyes were brown, a very typical brown. He found them colorful. Her clothes were plain, more suited for a quiet tea and coffee gathering at home than the flashy streets of the big city. He was happy with that, his clothes weren’t much different. Other people would not look at her for more than a moment, but he could gaze at her for all his life… and so far he had done just that.

“You know,” he replied, “my eyes see shapes of light and darkness, my brain translates them into stars and cosmos and all the other things it knows. But you are neither a shape nor a thing. You are my soulmate. I see your soul through mine. And trust me, there aren’t stars as beautiful as you.”

His eyes were immovably fixed on hers. She felt the warmness which embraced her soul as she gently ran her fingers through his short chestnut hair. He looked just as big to her as his kindness. He was a gentle giant who never really fought a verbal argument with her, let alone hurt her in any way. People thought that he was rather secluded and strange, a close-in stuck in an unbreakable shell of his own. She knew that he found friends in the many wonders of nature – stars, flowers, the little creatures in the garden… she came to adore his oddness. People thought he had no aspirations - he never really wanted a better job, car or a house. She knew that he traveled the stars in his free time and really – who would ever exchange dreams for money? Nevertheless, what no one denied were his sky-blue eyes. And they were all hers. Nothing could compete for their attention. They looked and looked at her always complimented by a smile.

“How sweet of you.” – she stated expecting an even wider smile of him.

And that she always got. She lived for his happiness just as much as he lived for hers. She knew that each and every occasion was marked with a different kind of smile. He even had a smile for bad news. Not that the bad news were really that bad, they usually involved a crop being ruined by the summer hail or something. She felt able to overcome any difficulty with his support. He was capable of exorcising her pain away easily, each and every time. And he did all that using the simplest of words and gestures.

“Do you know,” he said, “there are some very cold stars out there?”

“How cold were they?”

“Nothing special…”

“In tangible terms, please.”

“They were so cold that my breath froze to stone as soon as I exhaled it and hit the ground like a meteorite!”

“Why do you say that they are nothing special then?”

“Usually, life is even colder.”

“Usually?”

“Well, how can I put it… life with you is quite unusual.”

It is really amazing how something as small as the life energy of another human can make all the difference in the world. And it is not about the heat, the burning atoms of the lifeless universe are much more abundant of it. It is about the presence. The barely noticeable pulse of the heart and the almost silent motion of the breath are what really make life warmer. Much warmer. It is not about having some place to rest your weary head; rather it is about being there to support someone you care about.

“Let's play constellations.” - he proposed.

The game was simple, just like life if you are wise enough. They would take turns to try and guess which stars made which constellations. She always tried her best to outsmart him and after a while she was able to find a group of stars that even her rather amazing imagination could not mould into words.

“What are those called then?” - she asked pointing upwards.

Quite oblivious to the pride she had in her discovery, he answered:

“Stars”

She blushed and felt quite silly. This was not the scenario she had in her mind. It seemed that her triumph was stolen. He thought a little, though, and added:

“Well, this is no real answer, is it? You win.”

“It's not about winning or losing, you know?”

“Yes, I know, it's about how to make you smile the most.”

Cinnamon-scented silence followed. He remembered:

“Did I tell you - the stars are special because the night sky is dark.”

“You did. You even said it was a talking star who told you that.”

“True, it was the wisest of the talking stars.”

“Are there really such stars?”

“Yes, I even know a smiling one.”

“Where...” - she paused in sweet awkwardness - “So, ah, did it tell you anything else?”

“Yes.”

“Share something.”

“It told me not to be too serious. Life is too sour to forgo the simple joys out of seriousness”

She smiled as she remembered the day she told him that. She was happy things never changed. She said:

“Did you know, the stars come closer when you are in the presence of a friend?”

“Yes, especially if your friend is a star.”

He never disappoints when it comes to childish compliments. She admired that part of him.

“When you see all the stars, as you have clearly done, do you lose their beauty?”

“Indeed, one often under-appreciates the things he has. But this is not true for the things of true substance. The seer of a thousand stars appreciates the one closest to him the most. And his star will shine that much brighter, knowing that she was chosen amongst all the millions of others. The warmth of a lonely star is nothing to neglect”

It was him who taught her how to believe in herself. Then, she caught him deep in thought.

“I have been a great egoist,” he said, “wanting to take care of a star.”

“Why do you think caring makes you an egoist?”

“Because, you see, the one who is taken care of has too much responsibility. If the care is not up to standard, then she has to bear the guilt of informing the caretaker of this fact. But if the care is satisfactory she will have to return the favor. That is, once again, a responsibility. And stars, you see, are prideful creatures – they will always give back when given to.”

“But you are a good man.”

“I am not good. I want to care for someone but only if that someone cares for me. Good people and good stars are selfless...”

“It is only natural to want someone to care for you.”

“That is why I can never be a star.”

“But you are a great admirer of stars and this is good enough. Apart from that, isn't the light of stars blinding anyway.”

“You see, stars are delicate. They cannot allow anyone to see their beauty. This is why you need to honestly respect them before they bestow their grace upon you .”

She looked at him, looked at the sky, inhaled the dancing fumes of her tea and unexpectedly poked him with a straw.

“I think you forgot what the wise star told you.”

He did, if only for a moment. Nevertheless, he will never forget what was most important.

“Have I told you, I have a very special friend. And tonight, it is a very special occasion for both of us.”

“Your friend,” she inquired with a healthy blush, “do you still find her beautiful, you know, as a woman?”

“Yes, of course, but that is unimportant.”

“Why?”

“I find her beautiful as a star.”

She smiled, bit her lip and gathered her courage:

“You know, on a starry night such as this, I had my first kiss.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“What a coincidence then, me too.”

Two happy tears rushed down two very smiling cheeks.



“Hey, how long have we been doing this?...”

“One, maybe two…”

“No, dear, five.”

“Five whole months!” – he said with a smiling soul.

“You know very well that today is our anniversary. Five decades.”

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