Yesterday, walking home, I went up the sky to get a star.
I stole it, I cut the string that was holding it to get the light for myself, thinking I had not enough.
Yet (or maybe because of that) today has been crap. Crying my tears out, feeling like a breadcrumb that is not even big enough for an ant to bother with it.
Luckily, in Catalan we can differentiate from "ser" and "estar", and I am certain about the temporary character of my tears.
Tessa randomly appears, as a gift from heaven, and hugs me bringing back the warmth from Mostar; my catalan thoughts connecting me home and my feet grounding me to Edinburgh's earth.
And, as it always tends to happen, genuine smiles turn the world upside down.
A little active innocence running around the room gets my star. Back and forth. Drops it, puts it into a hat, takes it there, brings it here... and without thinking I hear myself saying:
"Agafa-la! Que és per tu! La lluna me la va donar anit per a que hi pogueres jugar! És bonica, eh?"* But the child does not listen anymore, she is messing around with all the flyers, in the Chaplaincy corner next to the microwave.
I do not know where the star is anymore. But I learned to not be worried, to trust whatever happens. Let it be...
Anyway, some starts, even though born in the sky, wish to crash themselves into peaces, so the stardust can stick to everybody's shoes
and light up their path.
*"Take it! It's for you! The moon gave it to me yesterday so you could play with it. It's beautiful, ha?"
Ilustrations from: http://www.loretopinedo.com/