We stand and watch as the western hemisphere comes into view. Half the world is in motion--moving, bustling and out of breath, while the other half resting in its tranquil slumber. We suppose 384,400 kilometers don’t make much of a difference compared to some thousand light years between our home planet and some faraway galaxies, but they do; we see an overview of planet Earth, blue and white like a pretty snow globe, with the colors of the winds and oceans coalescing into a wintery texture.
We’re bare amongst the universe; we’re special. Home, is where the sun sets every afternoon and a tender flame ignites with hope each stargazing evening to come, when mother would point her nimble finger at the night sky and beam, at us, joyfully. At home, we make constellations out of papers and our imagination. At home, stars are shaped like pinwheels and are nothing more than pinwheels. But at home we don’t know how vast everything else is. Out in the void where day