Tuesday, January 26, 2010
5am. I’m standing outside waiting on my mom so we can take our morning walk for exercise. Although I believe these walks benefit her more than me healthwise, I do them anyway. I’m a giant compared to her, so my one step is three of her little steps. While I’m walking at what I think is a regular pace, she’s trying to keep up.
So I’m waiting, and to be fair, she’s had to wait on me a few times. But right now, I’m looking up at the lazillion stars in the predawn sky and I can’t stop looking. When I move my eyes to look at any other spot, they invariably find their way back upwards. I’ve never been an “I can name the constellations” - type of person, but at this instant, I wish I was an “I can name the constellations”- type of person. I really wish I would’ve taken the time to learn some constellations. Although, of course it’s not too late. I’d love to be able to point out the dippers (both sizes), or Orion’s Belt (that’s what they were looking for in Men in Black, right?). But then again, it almost doesn’t matter because I know they’re up there somewhere.
If I had any poetic or creative bones in my body, I could probably put forth a few metaphoric and witty lines about how insignificant I feel in comparison to the universe or the grandiosity of it all. But unlike my fellow PCVs, Paulette and Angelic (who have awesome blogs by the way: www.peacecorpsparaguay.blogspot.com , www.sojournerang.blogspot.com), I don’t have said bones for such word play.
Some people describe the universe as a miracle; others, science; and still others, as a mixture of the two, the miracle of science. I’ll describe it with a world that I’ve come to know and appreciate since I’ve been in Paraguay: impresionante.