near kisses and other stories: 14 days to love (when stars go blue)

Every day the world turns.

Every day, every night, a different piece of sky is laid out before us. Cloud patterns and star formation - these things vary from time to time. They change and yet we always get a clear memory of the things we associate with them when we want to. In my case, they remind me of moments that tend to be, more or less, a turning point in my life. Events that made a mark on my psyche.

But tonight's different. The sky is nothing but a vast empty shade of blue. I'm sure that there are low, visible clouds up there but the wind has been awfully quiet for quite some time now so those puffy things have been pretty much stationary, hence imperceptible.

Anyway, I find it ironic that this bareness triggered a memory recall about a conversation I have had regarding stars.

"Asan ka?"

"Sa rooftop lang."

"Alam mo ba, sabi nila kapag nakabilang ka daw ng pitong stars tuwing gabi for seven consecutive nights magkakatotoo ang hiling mo?"

"Saan mo naman nakuha yan?"

"Sabi ng kaibigan ko. Totoo daw yun!"

"Naniwala ka naman."

"Totoo nga. Sige, palagay mo lang na totoo ano ang hihilingin mo?"

"Hmmm... Wala akong maisip eh."

"Eh ako na lang tanungin mo."

"Oh, ano hihilingin mo kung nagawa mo nga yun?"

"Na sana gusto din ako nung taong gusto ko!"

"Okay."

"Pang-pitong gabi na ngayon."

"So nagka-totoo naman ba?"

"Ewan ko. Gusto mo na ba ako?"

"Ang corny mo ha!"

"Hahaha."

That night we laughed, talked and laughed some more, but for some reason the last question was never answered, not in the manner it should have been expressed anyway. As expected, the interest on the matter slowly waned as the days passed by and soon enough it seemingly faded into the background, and its face drowned among the sea of half-forgotten acquaintances and strangers.

Not unlike the stars when they are visible and spread out like generic incandescence, barely distinguishable from one another, or when their collective sparkle appear hidden by the onset of night.

But through the stars these things become memories worth reveling in every once in a while.

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POSTSCRIPT. This is so two thousand and eight.