Stars

The plane was less than half full when it surged into the air. I looked out the window and marveled at how quickly the airliner was climbing.

It was a clear day, even if an earlier downpour has rendered it somewhat gray. Above the cluster of barefaced islands beyond the coastline, a layer of small wispy clouds floated, every one of them blown and shaped into cotton candy-like shapes. They looked like little tornadoes.

I was not able to look at them for long, as the airliner soon banked away. When the plane leveled, the undulating land of the peninsula came into view. But even that gradually faded to white as the plane continued to climb, and soon we found ourselves in the clouds.

We encountered some minor turbulence along the way. The pilot attributed it to the crosswinds. I got bored of watching the in-flight update ticking down the estimated time of arrival and peered out the window.

The flight attendants had dimmed the cabin, though errant lights still reflected on my window. I caught at a lone light flickering in the night sky and assumed it to be a neighbouring airliner. It looked as though it was flying parallel to us – a little too close for comfort.

Then I realized the light was not flashing the way navigational lights on an aircraft should be. I pressed my nose to the window and squinted at the bright speck. It was a star all along. Then I felt an urge to look up, and what I saw made my breath catch.

There was a whole sky of stars above, twinkling brightly like tiny gems on black velvet. At 40,000 feet, they looked…different – enchanting, almost hypnotic.

I could not take my eyes off the sight and stayed that way for a long time, feeling like a child once more.