Showing posts from February, 2013

Stars of the Indigo Sky

When there's been a fight and the deadly silence of slammed-shut doors can't lull me to sleep, I sneak out my window onto the roof and talk to the stars. 
You never know just how deep the sky is until you stare and stare and then realize that you can never see through to the end.  And midnight isn't blue, but it's not black either.  It's indigo, with a depth that sinks down into your eyeballs until the whole world is tinted rich purple-blue.  On and in that indigo sea float the stars.  The tiny spatters of light spread across the whole of the ocean sky and far up into it, glowing from generations away.  Still, they always hear me when I need to talk, offering an empathetic shine.
Our conversations start out quiet.  I'll mention how stuffy it gets inside the house, how the fan can't blow the heat from angry words away.  I'll complain that no matter how many pillows you hide under, your hurting heartbeat will always sound loud in your ears and keep you up …