Ralph and the stars

Ralph did not so much wake up as he did move from a state of sleep to un-sleep. He opened his eyes to a black nothingness, and then blinked a few times, as if such an act would shed light in the infinitesimal darkness his eyes perceived. He could not comprehend it. Why is it nothing… am I blind? was the first thought that ran through his barely conscious brain. Then his mind and the rest of his consciousness, held up in the customs while checking out of never-land, finally caught up with Ralph and woke him up, reinstating sense and order into this perception of nothingness.

Damn rag, he muttered as he reached up from within his bedroll to pull off the quilt that he had snuggled all the way up to his forehead. Darkness immediately gave way to a splash of soft glittering jewels, pinned upon a coat of the darkest velvet, gracing his view and welcoming him back from his sleep. It was an exceedingly clear and crisp night, and at this altitude, the night sky was so clear you could almost imagine you were staring at the sky through a telescope already. A sudden image came to Ralph; a huge galactic star-map studded with so many pinpoints and an arrow pointing to one of the miniscule dots somewhere down the bottom left side, with the words YOU ARE HERE ->. It was oddly romantic, and it made him smile.

Not millions but trillions of stars clustered and squeezed into the huge expense of sky, ringed only by the crowns of the ponderosas that surrounded this glade. Ralph drew in a soft gasp of wonder. Out here there was not even a cottage light to be seen, so even the faintest of stars could be seen without much effort. Star clusters were everywhere, and the Milky Way ran its faint band, traversing the lower left region of his view. To the right he could see the slightest sliver of the waxing moon, not bright enough to block out the nearby stars but enough to show itself as a huge grin in the sky, like the Cheshire cat. Right above Ralph was the Corona Borealis, with its seven sparkling gems inlaid in the crown staring down at him. He led his eyes down to the unruly mess (to him at least) that was Serpens and Ophuichus (heck, even the name seemed messy), and then finally settled is eyes on the most discernable constellation to him. It was Scorpio, the bright and elegant sequence of stars that held one of the fire-jewels in the night, Antares. He snaked his eyes from the imaginary head of the celestial scorpion all the way down to the curl of the stinger.

He smiled again, this time with a tinge of sadness. He remembered, almost a year ago, and halfway across the world, had he first recognized the constellation. And when he had left that place and took only its memories, it was bittersweet.

Lay as I might
halfway across the world
where even stars may shine different
tonight I walk in your dreams yet again
if I can't see you now
I'll wait for you
to put the light back in my eyes

Then again they didn’t seem to shine so differently after all, he mused.

It was a full five minutes that Ralph spent motionless, with only his eyes moving from constellation to constellation. Time to time he would catch sight of a dim satellite crawling its way across the sky, and follow it for a while, and then he would dart his eyes away to catch a shooting star. Finally he settled on Polaris, and propped his hands behind his head, content. He watched each breath that he exhaled form a little mist that lingered in the scant light for a while before dissipating. The campfire beside him had burnt low; all that was left was steady warmth and a few red embers, like the stars in the sky, only red. Bliss was close enough to perfection to be content with.

Ralph snuggled back into his quilt, and went back to sleep with a content look that was few and far between come these tiring days and nights. Trials and tribulations may come soon, but for now, it was respite, and it was perfect.

It was bliss.