Stars

Thirteen brown steps lead down to a little opening. You can see it from the hallway on the second floor. On hot days I can just see two white curtains that the air conditioner twirls about. The light changes in the opening every hour so that if a person sat there all day they could feel the path of the sun. Wooden floors change their appearance with the atmosphere and season, and in the summer you can almost see your reflection. A grand piano sits just behind the opening. It was once played daily and music would fill the room and dance in the light. Now it sits still and silent, as if some important key were missing. In the darkness underneath the piano is a big flattened down pillow, and as the day leaves the light ripples out and away. I have sat on the cool wooden boards and watched the world breathe. I have learned, the window has taught me, that when the light fades away, I can still see the stars.