I have a balcony that overlooks the city and at night I can peek out from the in-between spaces in the curtain lace and see the stars- crazy amounts of them. There is a constellation in the shape of a question mark that is always flickering a little bit extra, like it is made up of stars that a great wind or breath is teasing with the possibility of being extinguished.
I remember "buying a star" at the grocery store decades ago, and wondering how I would ever find out which one was mine. Now I am sure it must be part of that little guy looming over me like a heavy shrug, calling "?..."
And I reply with another, bigger shrug.
Or that twisted face that inspires other people to make the i'm-going-to-punch-you if-you-don't-stop-making-that-stupid-face face.
Or that twisted face that inspires other people to make the i'm-going-to-punch-you if-you-don't-stop-making-that-stupid-face face.
Mostly it just reminds me that I don't know very much about anything. And how so much of the time, when I think it's one thing, it's actually the other thing. And how many times I've been left with a sinking feeling and wishing I had done the other thing.
I can even see it out my window right now- now that I'm living on a roof with a balcony where I can see things more clearly, and not back in Buffalo where people can buy stars at the grocery store.
I'm pretty sure it was a fundraiser for cancer research. It was part of the candy isle.
And so what if I'm just answering one question with another question. At least we're taking the time to ask questions and inshallah getting somewhere.
Somewhere in the vicinity of deciding to embroider a constellation onto my black winter sweater. And somewhere beneath all those countless little lamps in the sky, we are being constantly reminded of the countless blessings of Allah.
