sky of plastic stars

call the Smithsonian, I made a discovery / life ain’t forever and lunch isn’t free

(Smithsonian, The Avett Brothers) (I nearly dropped my camera trying to take this) (yes I have very long fingers)

Welcome to Earth, please keep your seatbelts securely fastened and do not, under any circumstances, attempt to exit the ride. Overpriced snacks will be handed out shortly.

This is supposed to be a post about summer goals, written as a collab with my summer-loving friend Madi. I complained about trying to write said goals instead of actually doing it, and Rebekah’s wonderful self put my chaotic mental dialogue into words. The world happened and it’s an incredibly odd time to be growing up and planning for the future and just generally existing. Writing about something so light seems…. I don’t know, strange considering how dark the world feels right now. But maybe someone reading this could use a distraction. :)

So, this summer? I’m going to hope for the small things. Celebrating the birthdays of family and friends, playing with my dog, hugging the people that I miss. Afternoon phone calls on the backyard swing, writing letters and blog posts and stories, filling my camera’s SD card again and again. New music releases and driver’s licenses and the quiet yet extremely satisfying end of high school. Devouring massive stacks of library books like I used to do. Learning and learning from my wonderful violin teacher who says things like “imagine you’re stretching that note wide, like a yawn in the morning” and suddenly the song feels alive.

It’s harder to see this year, but these next few months are always full of possibility. Who am I to say what might happen? A stray kitten could wander into the yard, our neighbor could blow something up in the middle of the night, the alligator in the pond could decide to murder us all. Laura might turn out to be a vampire as I’ve strongly suspected for years. I could fall asleep before midnight. Most likely, I’ll just spend the summer wandering from one spontaneous thing to another, simply feeling the hum of possibility and not noticing that nothing much is happening at all.

See, for what feels like forever, there have been glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling above my bed. They usually don’t shine at night, but there are times when someone switches on a lamp in that dark little room and gives them enough light to come alive. On those nights, when I finally give in to sleep, the ceiling becomes a gently glowing sky of plastic stars.

Every time I stare up at that artificial night, I feel this deep desire to buy several dozen of those little stars and mail a few to everyone I know. I could easily keep that thought to myself forever, just rolling it around in my head without ever telling a soul. That, to me, has always been summer—holding some new idea between your cupped hands like a firefly in the darkness and never wanting to let it go.

So, that’s all I’m hoping for—the summer feeling. I really, really miss the outside world (100 days in self-quarantine + counting) and I’m unsure as to what the future holds, but I can still wander down the driveway to get the mail while eating an ice cream sandwich in the sunshine. I’ll probably have to come back and read this to remind myself of that, but what’s new?

Let’s see… if you’d like to smile, go read this gorgeous post that Sarah wrote—it captures everything I love about summer and then some. May your next few months be full of all the best tiny adventures, and don’t forget to go check out Madi‘s far more coherent thoughts right here. :)

*grasps for a final remark and fails*


I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.
– John 16:33

23 thoughts on “sky of plastic stars

  1. AMAZING. The summer feeling. I know that. I was just writing something like this in my art journal…”As we do every year, we squint beneath cupped hands and run restlessly over the dying grass, the hot crackling of it burning like fire in our haste to get there, to get to freedom, to get away from the worries that rain down and no masks can stop this blackness. We run toward the light…” hmm, maybe I’ll just post it to Instagram. XD But I can relate. Especially to the long fingers part. Your long fingers look quite nice and straight. Mine have grown odd ways in the years since they were saplings. :’D
    This comment is getting stranger and stranger. I will stop now. But I loved this post.

    Liked by 5 people

  2. *inhales*
    *does that thing where you triangle your hands*
    oh this
    this was a post filled with longing and safety and quiet and i don’t have the words to explain how beautiful this was

    Liked by 1 person

  3. *deep inhale* I always love doing this, and then feel bad when I did nothing. But I love doing nothing. Days just packed with nothing. 😌
    …but then I won’t ever finish my book 🤔 hmmb, decisions, decisions XD
    Lol very incoherent, the most beautiful incoherent prose in the world 👌
    Most crazily, ~Olive

    Liked by 1 person

  4. “Devouring massive stacks of library books like I used to do.” This makes me feel so sad and happy because it makes me remember what being a kid was like and how it kinda hurts to have memories. Your blog is such a lovely reminder of how beautiful the world is. <3 To the library!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This is such a quietly beautiful post. The world has been crazy and scary recently, but I’m trying to appreciate those small moments–those walking down to get the mail while eating an icecream sandwich moments–that remind me of what I love.


  6. welp, this. was. beautiful.

    it’s literally such a comforting post, Clara, and it captures everything hopeful that is still left in the world right now. and then there’s that verse at the ending – ❤❤❤ thanks for this wonderful, WONDERFUL masterpiece, Clara.

    -and you shared my post?? girl, thank you SO much, you’re too kind-

    Liked by 1 person

  7. “Devouring massive stacks of library books like I used to do. Learning and learning from my wonderful violin teacher who says things like “imagine you’re stretching that note wide, like a yawn in the morning” and suddenly the song feels alive.”

    How is something that defines you and your life somehow find it’s way to me and remind me of what I should notice and treasure? That’s the infinity of love. <3

    Liked by 1 person

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