Andromeda & You

Dear you,

We're on the cusp on Fall now. Days getting shorter. Brown leaves ahead. A long, hard cold after that. I surprised myself today by craving it, the long nights and the blue moons. I usually don't do that.

This is the time of year when I make plans I won't keep, start writing again, and spend too much money on telescopes. I've been getting better at making campfires lately, and I wear too much flannel. I stand straighter than I used to, and last week I took a razor to my eyebrow and cut out a chunk of hair for some godforsaken reason. (Worst part is, I think it looks hot.)

Twenty-six years in and I know my patterns now. I know in November I'll be making plans for January, and in January I'll move those plans to February, and in February I'll cancel those plans. I know one night in April I'll crawl out of bed and do everything I meant to do in November, except that I'll only remember half of it. I know this will be good enough.

We, as people, are not particularly efficient. We think too much, or too little. We eat too much, or too little. We burn hours upon hours growing food we won't eat and spending money we don't have. On the small scale, we're a disaster. But on the macro - we're about as efficient as it gets. Our batting average really isn't too bad, compared to everything else.

I have a confidence in us, as a species, that brings me a great amount of comfort. Some might say it's naïve, that people are more bad than good, that society itself is an experiment destined to fail and that we'll all be underwater by the time we solve climate change. I might even believe it, if I thought it would help.

But it doesn't help. It hurts. 

I don't just believe everything will be all right, I know it will be. I know winter will pass and I know I'll be here again next year. I know it. I know you will be here, too.

Listen - it's late, and it's getting later. Writer her. Move. Create. Laugh. Cry. Just go on. It's all there is to do. It's all we can do.

I'll see you next Summer. I'll take you stargazing. I'll show you Andromeda and tell you how long of a journey that light made to fall into your eyes. It's on its way to us right now, and we'll meet it.

With love,

Solstice Everston