When the frame of sky expands

The sky is crystal clear tonight. The air is cold with a scent of damp ditch and gravel crusted asphalt. It’s the season just before Mother Nature sweeps her colour brushes over the landscape’s palette. It’s a time of waiting for rejuvenation.

I went for a run to the shore line and followed the path into the forest. It was probably a little late for running in the woods, but I could just make out the path, and I was careful not to trip on roots and stones. People were out walking their dogs and it made me feel safe.

You never realize when you’re safe. But you always know when you’re not.

And I remember the evenings and nights and even days, in Cape Town, always being aware of who was around, where my bag was (ok, maybe not always, since I was robbed six times!!) and there was always this suspicious attitude, that didn’t feel like my own.

Sure, bad things happen even in the best of places but I feel safe here. As if the starry sky is protecting my every step. I know they shine from billion of years ago, from another time, so surely they must know more than I.

I look up. I can only see a miniscule of them. I try to decide whether I am disappointed that this sky doesn’t offer the same bewildered amazement that I have witnessed in skies from other parts of the world, or if I am pleased to see at least a few.

I think to myself:

This is what happens when our reference frame of life’s sky expands…

We will always know there is more out there.

Even when we can’t see it.