Writing My Memories So I Dont Forget Them - Blog Posts

Green ribbons of light danced across the darkened rural sky to the song of stringed instruments coming from my phone. The gentle melodies punctuated every sudden arch and smoothed each long stretch. Somewhere off in the distance, the sound of my friends spinning, running, and laughing on the dirt road and through the overgrown ditches. Even further off, the howl of coyotes gives warning to some unfortunate creature.

The song changed.

I lean back on my elbows in the truck box so I'm not craning my neck as much. I watch the sky light and darken as the green strips stretch and compress, appear and dissappear.

I found a place among the souls who offered me a rope, thankful for the day my journey came across the boat

I glance over at the friend next to me, their breath fogging from the cold night air as they try to take a picture of the sight in front of them. A picture can hold a thousand words, and will always far outlast our memories. The last time we watched the sky like this, we were laying on rocks beside a bridge, both being lulled to sleep by the song of a foolish man, enchanted by a forest spirit. I had never known rocks to be so comfortable until that night.

The song changed.

I went back to watching the sky, the ribbons of light greatly diminished from when I last looked. Now, they seemed to be painting a picture of a snowy tundra, briefly illuminated by pine trees, putting emphasis instead on the stars above the green light. I traced the constellations I knew, recalling the stories and different names I knew for each one; wishing I knew more of their names, shapes, and histories.

I know you'd break your neck just to see the stars

I chucked and rubbed the back of my sore neck. If nothing else, the song got that right. The two friends seemed to tire of their galavanting and ran back over to join us at the truck again, watching the stars and northern lights. The ribbons seemed to take that as their cue to take center stage, once again filling the night sky. The lines between each fold and spike grew and shrank, boldened and blurred. We watched the spectacle in awe, music having returned to the familiar, calming strings.

A flash of orange, red, and yellow streaked through the performance, there and gone in an instant. For a moment, all that could be heard was the stringed instruments. My friends began exclaiming their shock, estonishment, and excitement, one regretfully saying they didn't make a wish. I sat there, stunned, replaying the sudden flash of light - a meteor, we agreed - desperately trying to commit it to memory. I didn't want to forget it or that night. The friend next to me suggested I make a note of it on my phone, so I did.

The night drew on, and songs continued to change. Eventually, we moved the truck around so we could watch from inside the cab, as most of us did not dress warmly enough. The friend and I talked about the last time we stargazed like that and of bringing blankets next time. We talked about the people we liked and of people we wished to love.

After what might have been hours, the show did end, and the four of us left our little spot in the country so we could all sleep before work the next day.

(the original note from that night: Fucking commet while watching Northern lights with buds)

Songs referenced are (in order): Journey to Wherever We May Go by Grand Commander, The Willow Maid by Eurtan, Archer by Novo Amor. The referenced string music is from Astronomy, Vol. 1 by Sleeping at Last.

Pictures by @/alyssamoggy on Instagram