I often find myself lying here, in this quiet field, looking up at the stars. The grass is cool and slightly damp, and the noises of all the insects around me fill in the gaps between my thoughts. I seek out my favorite constellation that I first saw when I was a little boy. It takes me a moment to find it, but the distant memories guided me to see it in the same place that I once saw it so long ago. I remember the fond times my father and I spent stargazing in the countryside. We would drive far out from the city, away from all the noise and light pollution. He would point up at the beautiful night sky, tracing these invisible lines, making the stars come alive in my brain. I often get homesick thinking about how far apart we are from each other. It’s a bittersweet feeling that I get. The dusty attic in the house I grew up in, the smell of rain on the sidewalk right before a big storm rolls in, riding my bike down familiar streets with my close friends as the wind rushed past us with no worries in my head; all things that feel as if I could reach out and touch. I didn’t wanna leave home, but I couldn’t miss all the opportunities.
That’s what I find strange about growing up. You can’t just hit the pause, play, or rewind button. It makes me long for the past when it was much simpler. The world was smaller, just me and the people I was close to. But if time hadn’t moved forward, I wouldn’t be where I am, here in this field.
Now that I’ve grown up, I feel this nostalgia for something I can’t quite pinpoint. If I’m being honest, I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced it. It’s like I’m remembering something that isn’t mine to remember. I think it might be Anemoia. It’s like I’m missing something; it just doesn’t feel right. It’s a melancholy thought that I have in my head. It reminds me of the small things, like swinging on a tree swing and your feet flying in the wind. Or watching fireflies light up the dark, warm summer nights as a kid. Or that feeling when the days on summer break would blend, and it felt like it would never really end. All these nostalgic things that I can at least somewhat remember. But this feeling, I can’t put my finger on it. It lingers beyond my reach.
Yet, here I am, still reminiscing in this field, the stars remain unchanged, still in the same spots that they have always been in. Maybe the reason I keep coming back to them is that they don’t shift or drift away. Maybe growing up and leaving home has caused me to yearn for the memories that I created there. A time and place where I was confident in the version of myself. But no matter how far I get from home, the people I know and love, the stars will always connect us.