Orion's Belt
As a young girl, I remember the first time I had truly seen the constellation of Orion. After a seven mile hike to the beach of Point Reyes, and a seven mile hike back, my sixth grade class had nestled in a little canyon covered in thick grass. There, stuffed on s'mores, we lay on our backs while the teachers pointed out the different constellations. I remember seeing the night sky for the first time that night, having been raised in a city and all. While they showed us dozens of constellations, I only remember two; the dolphins – a skittish little gathering of stars that reminded me of a kite. In the brightness of the city skyline, I would rarely see this group. The second being Orion. It was then that a part of me took possession of Orion; it was mine. Others had discovered it, named it, and prayed and wished on those glowing gems, but it was mine.
I remember seeing them again on a high school concert band sleep over at school. Me and all my friends camped out at school, trying our best to stay awake for the full night in our band room. Behind the band room was the field we shared with the junior high, meaning it was quite large. Me and my friends, cuddled up in sleeping bags, watched the night sky and giggled and laughed. Later, when most had gone to sleep or became zombies, I stayed out and serenely watched those stars. I saw Orion again and decided that one person could not own a full constellation, it took too much concentration. I settled on the three stars that spanned Orion – his belt.
I held those stars in my eyes and I silently pleaded that the boy I had a crush on for three long years would finally 'see' me. Weeks later, I took my courage and told the boy I thought he was attractive. He laughed at me and caused me quite a few friendships (little did I know how many others liked him as well!). I bore a small grudge against those bright stars for a while.
I moved to Utah, and found myself closer to them then ever. The lights melted away against the might of the mountain I lived on at that time, and even the Dolphins asked if I remembered them. I grew reacquainted with those holes in Heaven, and forgave them for granting a foolish girl her wish. So I asked them for a new favor; to make love stay. Little did I know how foolish that request was, as love is already gone when you have to ask such a request. It made the suffering unbearable until, when he came back, I realized it was too late and wished him well.
The city had missed me when I came back. It hugged me in Sacramento's dry warmth and washed my tears of happiness away with it's own tears of joy. The Dolphins frolicked away and wished me well, but Orion stuck around. The constellation seemed ever-curious in my life, and I obliged it. I thought I had figured out how to ask for something from it. I did not ask it to make someone love me, I did not ask for love to stay, I asked it to find someone to love me.
He was tall, dark, and handsome. Older, smarter, and wise in ways I found myself drawn to after he confessed his feelings to me. I stayed in denial, knowing he carried enough baggage to drown us both. Soon, I thought we could bear it up with love to help. “Love is a four-lettered word.” he told me simply. I shied from him in nervousness, too late. He didn't just break my heart, he utterly shattered and destroyed it. Still, I never said that four lettered word, not to him, not to anyone.
I grew wary of those three stars. They would grant me my wish, but was I smart enough yet to wish for something that would not destroy me?
I wished for lust, lust could not hurt as love had. Lust could change into love. Lust seemed a safer road than love. It gave me lust, and lust left a bitter taste in my mouth. I walked away to the night sky and looked at those stars with a respect one gains as they get older, a dignity that experience leaves behind in its wake. I smoked now, and watched as those vapors swirled in the night against Orion who waited for my new request. I remembered a verse from the Bible and I asked this of it;
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
And I asked, one last time, for love. But no, I would not leave it open ended. I would lawyer around this time; I would ask for love, that would laugh, that would think. I would ask for a love that was good, that I could be proud of. I would ask for a love with comforting arms, with steel in it's back. I would ask for a knight in a world of fools. I would ask a gentle kindness, a friendship. I would ask for this love.
The winds blew too fast, and I was spun on heels when I saw this new love. He was not what I expected; he had an air of lasciviousness to him, he seemed too eager, too willing. Hesitantly, I would try. He showed me a kindness I had not expected, and I caught my breath. I willingly wanted to try now. He said, “You make me feel like I'm a sixteen year old with his first crush.” And I began to fall. I saw the utter kindness in him; I saw the stars in his smile, I felt the sun in his arms.
I thanked the stars for my gift. He was what I had wanted. I went inside to wrap those four letters in a box, wrapped in moonlight, and tied with Orion's Belt. I drove to him and placed myself at his feet, holding the box to him. But, there was something he wanted to talk to me about first...
I drove home, my box unopened in the passenger seat. My tears caught the light of the stars and threw them away from me. I had never had someone leave me for being 'too good'. I understood why he felt that way, and I knew that I could not give my present without him wanting to unwrap it. I left without a fight, because I could not fight with him. Later, I tried to hate him, anything to make the pain stop. I shouted at the stars, I rallied against the moon, I yelled at the sun. I found myself exhausted and without light, save those three little stars.
“I want to stop hurting, but I can't have a life without him. Please, make the pain stop.”
It was slow, but the stars came back, one by one. They came back in his smile, and the smile of others. I forgave him for being afraid, I forgave myself for trying to hate someone so good. The olive branch was extended and I walked carefully across this twig of friendship. I could laugh again with him, and not hurt. I could open up and not feel longing. I could breathe again.
And I find myself staring at those three stars now. They beckon me to wish for the things in my heart. I want to say I am older and wiser and no longer wish on stars. But I know I will wish again when I cannot stand my life anymore, when I cannot stand the loneliness. But for now, the stars and I have a silent agreement that now is not the time.
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