[[related sidenote: this community is wonderful.]]
it is the absence of the big city that makes the small lights visible. this whole scenario seemed so movie-esque, a contrivance of a television commercial that would no doubt advertise a product that is completely irrelevant. but there wasn't an ounce of irrelevance in the moment, no discolored snapshots, no farcical juxtaposition. oh, it wasn't perfect, mind you, as nothing is. there was fumbling for the right pieces to assemble the telescope, squinting in the meager light afforded by the trunk light. there was a chill in the air that was uncharacteristic of humid michigan summer nights. there was the disconcerting absence of the moon (it must be between cycles) that hid beneath the horizon on the one night that we desired her presence. the rural climate that we scorned so afforded us a glimpse of a world that was virtually invisible to the jaded masses huddling in skyscrapers in front of their television sets. there were stars, so many of them, glinting in the sky like wishes that were visible only to those who strove to see. it was the moment when you realized that you could see the vase and the faces--only this time, I could see twice the number of fiery balls of flame that have likely burned out and died centuries ago, before its promise had even reached our atmosphere. you haven't really lived until you've laid on top of a car with two childhood friends, staring at the stars. you really haven't. we saw shooting stars, and i wished on every one of them. it's times like these that make me believe in yesterday.