Meet Me In the Stars

For years, Annie had felt like a failure. The one thing her body was meant to do, and she couldn’t do it. Annie prayed until she couldn’t anymore, and then she wished. Every night, she had stood on her balcony and wished on every star in any way she could think of, and finally, she held that wriggly bundle in her arms. Her wish, her star, her Aurelia.

Josh had been there longer, of course. They met at the local planetarium as teenagers, where Josh ran the star show and Annie did presentations on constellations. They had fallen for each other talking in the breakroom about outer space. Josh had joked that they were a binary star system, holding each other in place. They had a give and a take that worked perfectly in their marriage.

Now, the grief of losing them hit Annie like a hurricane—sudden, all-consuming, blotting out the stars, much like the sudden silence invading every nook and cranny of her small home.

Annie walked through the door and dropped her purse on a chair. Fingering her new stitches, she took in the room. Once full of lively giggles and the sound of pattering footsteps, the house now stands as a tomb for the memories of Annie’s former life. How was one supposed to move, to breathe, when every out-of-place cushion or crayon scribble on the wall told a story of loss?

Even Annie’s appearance reflects that loss. Her once beautiful face now holds the weight of burden. Her eyes, once tired from a lack of sleep due to her baby's sleep regression, are now exhausted from nightmares of her husband's scared face, headlights much too close, the cries of her baby, crunching metal, and breaking glass.

The hurricane swept through her home like a force of nature, tearing seemingly anything of value away. Annie tries to grasp the important things, but they fly just out of reach. The things she does manage to grab onto turn out to be meaningless and float to the floor as she drops them. Stopping and forcing herself to calm, she wonders—What is important?

Aurelia’s blanket. Where’s her blanket? Annie’s rushed steps echo up the stairs as she hurls herself into her daughter’s room. The blanket is soft in Annie’s shaking hands, the embroidered bunny looking up at her. Annie brings the blanket to her face, letting the calming smell wash over her. The familiar scent wraps around her like a warm embrace, flooding her with a sense of peace. It overwhelms her momentarily, making her eyes fill with tears.

She remembers tucking her in just yesterday. Aurelia had snuggled her face into that bunny blanket while Annie read her a story. Typically, Josh would have joined them, but he had to work late. Or so he said; just as Annie got to the quiet old lady in Goodnight Moon, Josh walked in and kissed Annie’s forehead before snuggling with Aurelia. He had been wearing his Carhartt jacket, which smelled like his cologne, warm and musky with a hint of sweetness.

The memory of the Carhartt jacket sends Annie flying down the hall and into their room, which was once a safe haven of love and laughter. Annie hugs the jacket tight, crushing it and the blanket to her chest. His smell takes her back to later last night. Her eyes drift to the balcony door as she remembers. They were sitting out on their balcony. She was cold. Without asking, he gave the jacket to her. That was Josh, thoughtful of her in every moment. How can it be that she’ll never see him again?

Panic, raw and unrelenting, races through her as she continues to look out their balcony toward the stars dancing in the heavens. Without a second thought, Annie flies across the room and out the door to their spot where they used to be together and watch the stars.

As Annie searches the sky, the hurricane around her fades away. The stars shimmer and dance above, constant and steady, as if whispering to her that love never truly dies. Josh had always said they were a binary system, and maybe they still were—one star shining on the balcony and two more shining somewhere overhead, waiting for her in the great beyond.