The concrete beneath my outstretched body made for a stiff spot to lie. Thirteen other bodies lay like corpses beside me but were filled with more life than ever before as if the heavens that pierced our eyes regenerated us with life. At least this was the case for me. Perhaps my cabinmates were less entranced than me, seeing how they were giggling and whispering as one would expect most eleven-year-old girls to do in this scenario, but I was not a typical eleven-year-old — at least not at this moment. The crisp night air lay like a blanket over my face, while I was kept warm by the heat emitted by my new friends beside me, whom I couldn’t believe I’d met a few mere weeks ago. Like the past two weeks had stretched out to a lifetime. Their whispers mingled with the music that our counselors played, which formed the backdrop of this moment, as it flowed through my ears and into my soul. But they slowly quieted as their spirits too were filled with awe of what lay before their eyes. The stars themselves were nothing particularly special, but there was something about this stillness, this community, and the surreal expanse of the night sky that God seemed to breathe to life just for us. It was a sensation I didn’t know existed until then. A sensation that I felt in the deepest part of me. So much so that I wasn’t sure what to make of it, as I guided my eyes back up to the night sky. 

“I wish the stars were out tonight,” I thought to myself. Or maybe I had said it aloud. Truthfully, my memory of that evening is as foggy as the evening sky that lay before us, which soon seamlessly transformed into night. Yet I remember so vividly longing to see the stars once more before returning home, where all contact with nature dissipates into the ambiance of car horns and scuffling feet. I long for moments like this, where the peace of the mountains, the sky, and the unconditionally loving people around me wash over me as a wave washes over hot sand, cooling and soothing it to complete repose. We all lay on a wooden platform, cocooned in our sleeping bags like children at a slumber party, who appear as little caterpillars in the middle of this expanse of mountains that extended for miles in all directions — like the platform was our floor, and the mountains were our walls, and the sky was our ceiling, and only ours. “It’s so quiet,” I said, breaking the silence. “Everyone is so deep in thought.” This, I remember saying aloud because I remember how stupid it sounded afterward. “I think we’re all just tired,” said the boy beside me. We continued staring in silence at the shifting blanket of clouds that hid the stars. As night approached, the conversation picked up, and within the hour, we were all sitting up in our sleeping bags. The night seemed to revive us from our slumber, and from our two-day trek through the wilderness that had depleted us physically and mentally. We truly became brothers and sisters that night, sharing our deepest hopes and fears under the stars that would not shine.

“Alright, that’s it,” exclaimed George. He was a bodiless voice, having already gone into his tent to sleep. “Y’all are getting way too loud. You’re gonna have to end the game now.” My heart sank, thinking our night of fun had come to an end until Victoria came up with a better idea — “I think the stars are out tonight.” The past six nights we’d camped right on the river, but this night was different; there was a short walkway that we took through some tall grass from the campsite to the river. It made the beach feel like our own little escape that night. We lay in a circle on the rocky shore, with our heads in the middle, creating a flower-like shape together with our bodies. The night was colder than I expected, and the wind seeped through my thin long-sleeve shirt. But I stole away moments from the cold, where I was engrossed in the stars that were more marvelous than ever before. The group’s energy remained high from the intense round of “Anomia” we’d just played. The chatter and laughter mingled with the sound of the river’s rapids, which seemed to laugh along with us. All of a sudden, a shining sphere shot through the stillness. “A shooting star!” Our chatter began to quiet, and moments later, another one appeared. They were so far away, yet they seemed to hit each one of us with a silent blow. We began to speak on more serious topics: life once the summer ended, college, our future… But their importance dimmed. We all found our refuge here, together, under this blanket of a million twinkling lights.