The Brightest Star In The Sky

There’s this bright red and white star that I keep noticing whenever I look up at the sky.

One time I came home and accidentally glanced up, and there it was again. I don’t know why but looking at it made me feel comforted. It felt like running into someone familiar in a crowded place.

I started tracing the stars around it and realized it might be a constellation. I feel happy because it was the first time I’d ever tried to recognize a constellation myself. After looking it up, I think it might be the Scorpius constellation. The red star in it that I kept noticing is called Antares, a red supergiant that astronomers say is nearing the end of its life and will eventually explode in a supernova. Which is strange to think about because it feels like its been there forever. Though I suppose I’ll go long before it does.

It made me think, maybe people from thousands of years ago also looked up at that same star and just like me,  felt the same kind of comfort.

Last night I went outside because I felt like petting the dog and my cat. I sat on the stairs for a while and when I lifted my head, I immediately spotted it again.

“Oh,” I thought. “There you are.”

It almost feels like the star is looking back at you, like it’s winking. And it’s nice somehow to think that every night there’s just this one star there, waiting for you to notice it again.

Although I can’t actually be sure it’s Antares. Maybe it’s Sirius instead. I only know it as that red-and-white star that flickers like it’s alive. If it really is Antares, it’s strange to think that it’s technically dying.

Maybe that’s also why it made me think about my cats that night.

When my first cat died, there were nights when I’d hear a cat meowing outside the house. Every time I went out to check, there was nothing there.

I always felt guilty.

Cats were more independent, that’s why I chose them over dogs. I thought they would be fine if I traveled for a week and left them with my family. I thought they didn’t need me as much.

But I was wrong.

Whenever I leave, it feels like they also get depressed. A week after I came back from a trip they get sick.

And yesterday I realized something that I hadn’t really thought about before: I’m there for their entire life.

For me, they’re just a part of my life.

But for them, I’m part of all of it.

Maybe that’s also why I miss them when I’m away.

Because they miss me too.