Memories that Astral holds dear please.
He was swinging, back and forth. The summer’s afternoon was fading and the sounds of night were approaching. Gentle breezes warned of cooling temperatures, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he much preferred the cold than the humid hot days they had been given.
Soon the fireflies would take to the skies. Soon they would light up the night and dance among the stars, blending into their ranks until one could only guess the difference between them. Soon he would enjoy their company once more.
Though sooner Mother would come calling.
What announced her arrival was a low hum, steadily increasing in volume until it was all he could hear. He was never quite sure what tune she murmured, but it was always the same. One day he vowed to find its name, but for now he would sit back and listen.
She leaned against the tree his swing was attached to, closing her eyes to further the moment. He would follow suit and they would hum together in peace until the sun was long gone.
Once the sky was the color of fresh blueberries, they would come, seemingly out of nowhere. First it would only be few, then a moment later they would fill the meadow as floating lanterns.
There was only a couple who dared to venture towards the humans. Circling around them, the tiny bugs let their heartbeat illuminate their faces beautifully. Secretly, he would open his eyes to observe Mother basked in such light.
It was always in that exact moment when he was reminded how much he loved her.
He would try to hold onto such a feeling, but as the years dragged by the memory began to blur. The melody would pause itself, the smell of flowers become tainted, and the light of beauty dimmed. But he would not let the image of Mother die. He locked it inside his mind and vowed to paint it anew someday.
