w Out of Reach / Amaris Arroyave

Out of Reach

Amaris Arroyave

I was the kid who jumped to touch the stars and then asked my mom, “Why are they so far?” I tightened my jacket around myself and turned away from the harsh wind. Firewood glowing into the night burned out, all that lingered from the flames was the intense smell similar to a damp basement that wafed through the air. “Stars aren’t meant to be within our reach. That would only cause more harm than good,” my mother replied, a still expression painted on her face. Fireflies that scarcely flickered hovered close to the tall grass while crickets played a cacophony of chirping. I squinted through the fog, outlines of distant trees hardly visible, and sighed. With my shoulders slumped forward, I gazed down at the hard dirt beneath my feet. My mother soon called me to come back into the house, insisting it was too late to be up. Before I went back inside, I glanced up, taking one last look at the sky. The dispersed stars In the velvet sky shone against the fog like a lighthouse that shines for ships through the darkness. Being under the night sky I realized, like much in this world, some things would be out of my grasp.