I once heard that every person carries at least one memory—like an oasis in the desert of their soul—that soothes all unrest.
For me, that memory takes the shape of a night sky introduced to me by my mother when I was no older than five.
In the quiet recess of my mind, that sky still exists, scattered with countless glimmering dots. Those stars—like jewels sprinkled on a velvet canvas—seemed alive to my young eyes. They danced silently, suspended far above, inviting me to sail through their solitude and uncover the mysteries hidden within the tranquil darkness.
I would lie on the damp grass, feeling the dew tickle my cheeks. The scent of earth mingled with the cool mist, blurring the line between dreams and reality. Thousands of stars stood watch, their gentle light like candles on an altar of modest darkness—not piercingly bright, but enough to dissolve the shadows weaving through my quiet, somber nights.
Beside me, my mother stood calm, her warm hand enveloping my small fingers as if I were a fragile thing tethered to her love. Her gaze remained fixed on the heavens until she looked at me, her soft smile a mirror of the Virgin Mary—pure, tender, and overflowing with an otherworldly kindness.
"Look, my dear..." she whispered, her voice brushing against my soul as her finger pointed to a constellation scattered in the distance. "Do you see the cross among the stars?"
I squinted, focusing hard, trying to trace the light into a meaningful shape. But all I could see was an endless sea of quiet stars, without pattern or form. "I can't see it, Mama," I admitted, disappointment coloring my voice.
She only smiled gently, her soft laugh warm and reassuring, brushing away the edges of my doubt. "That's alright, my love... Not everyone can see it."
In the unbroken silence, we walked home along a narrow path, the night engulfing us. Her hand stayed wrapped around mine—a tiny flame of comfort in the vast darkness. From then on, this memory became a candle within me, flickering faintly but never extinguished, guiding me whenever I felt lost, reminding me of the path He had laid out for me.
This memory revisits me whenever loneliness takes hold, stirring the quiet with its ghostly warmth. It's both haunting and comforting—a shadow and a light, a constant reminder that even in distance, He is near.