The Orion Nebula is one of the brightest nebulae known to man. It’s visible to the naked eye, has a mass 2,000 times that of the sun, and is 1300 light years away. Its green tint was a puzzle for astronomers in the early part of the 20th century. The Orion Nebula is a dust cloud nursery for new stars.

At least, that’s what the boy taught me at the observatory.

His name in my phone is Sam Stars. My name in his phone is Emma Comet. He attempted to show me a comet through the telescope on the roof of the observatory. He said that our eyes can play tricks and that I should try my very best to focus on the green blur at the top right.

That, he says.

That? I respond.

Yes, he says, That’s it!

We would later share five rounds of beer, two cigarettes, and loads of kisses in the back seat of his best friend’s Toyota.

Tell me your story. Sam Stars says.

Well, my dad was a mathematician from Mexico. I bend over the bar, rest my elbows, and push my hair behind my ear. He loved the moon. My parent’s wedding song was Fly Me To The Moon and he proposed to my mother on the Pyramid of the Moon in Mexico.

Sam smiles. I take a sip of my beer and make it past the neck. I wink. He asks me why I had gone to the observatory on Tuesday. I tell him I have to write an essay for my English class about awe. I thought I would feel it when I looked at the moon through the telescope, but I didn’t. All I could see was a bright, white light. I thought I would feel it when he showed me that comet, but I didn’t. It looked like a speck of dust.

I was once on a walk with a boy named Charles, and I tried to explain to him the feeling the sky sometimes gives me. He asked me how my day had been, and I looked up to him.

Have you ever had that feeling when you’re walking down the street and the sun hits a certain way, the song you're listening to is just so good, and then you feel unbelievably happy?

He was quiet. He stared blankly at me. I continued.

Well, this morning when I woke up the moon was still in the sky. It was super faint, but I still could see it. And, I got that feeling.

He responded. No, I have never gotten extremely happy by the way the sun hits the street I’m walking on.

I was gone –– I’m not sure where, but I was definitely not with Charles any longer. And I thought of my father.

+++

His wooden office. The lights turned off. Sitting patiently on the carpet in front of the globe. My father stands tall; in one hand he spins the globe and in the other he shines a flashlight.

Emmita, he begins, when this globe turns all the way around, that’s called a rotation. This is what gives you day and night. Every single day. All year long.

God, it is so beautiful. The light, the darkness. My father’s smile, the way his glasses have fallen to the tip of his nose. The hum of the spinning globe, the melody of his voice.

At the same time the earth is rotating, it’s revolving all the way around the sun.

I place my fingertips on the rough surface of Europe. The light shines brightly over Italy and the Adriatic Sea. I imagine a woman in Sicily cooking her morning eggs on a skillet.

+++

I send Sam Stars a photograph of the moon from my apartment window. It's full yet dimmed by fog. I swear I see a rainbow halo.

The moon is gorgeous tonight.

That’s a funny way to spell my name, he responds. Oh, and here is the PDF you asked for.

It’s a few pages from his astrophysics textbook regarding The Pleiades, a well-known open star cluster which contains over a thousand stars loosely bound by gravity. The textbook instructs how to properly view the Orion Nebula.

When observing the Orion Nebula, be sure to select the clearest, darkest night possible. If your first look through the telescope is still disappointing… it may be because your eyes are not yet dark adapted.

Tonight I return to the observatory. It's overcast. I’m impatient. I’m a hopeless, hopeful soul. I can only see Sirius, and Sam explains this is the brightest star in the sky. He tells me not to worry.

Grab a piece of paper.

I do, and in beautiful cursive he draws Orion’s Belt.

This is Bellatrix. Rigel. Saiph. And right here, he draws a spiral, is the Orion Nebula.

Finally, Sam Star pens: Emma, nebulas make stars.

He draws an arrow pointing towards his masterpiece. He draws little stars around my name. I return home with the piece of paper and tape it above my desk.

I’m alone, again. In bed I stare at my flickering candle, affected greatly by the gust of wind coming from my open window. I’m searching for something. I stare at the small glow-in-the-dark stars I pasted to my ceiling.

+++

When I was little, I couldn’t sleep (I still can’t, but when you’re in college saying you were up until 4am is a conquest, never a cessation). Nightmares. Flipping my pillow to the cold side. Making to-do lists. Tasting tears.

I remember:

My father sits at the edge of my bed. He points outside my window.

At night, only when you sleep, an orchestra lines up in our backyard. Violinists, pianists, even opera singers join! They play our favorite: The Magic Flute.

All I can see is the darkness when I peak outside my window. The faint moon is blocked partly by our large Weeping Willow.

There’s nothing to see just yet. Close your eyes. There’s a full moon! A sea of violas. A french horn player. Now, do you see it? And… he begins to hum Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja. An opera singer.

My eyes are still closed. The weight of his body disappears, his missing presence becoming ever present. Fearful, I opened my eyes. I jump. But the room is dark. I can’t see my father. He rushes back.

Emmita, he places his hand on my head, look at the ceiling.

I stare at the small glow-in-the-dark stars he pasted to my ceiling, unbeknownst to me. Twenty! Thirty? I’m okay.

+++

I’m getting used to being alone. I’m learning to tuck myself into bed. To imagine the orchestra, to choose its players, to hum along. To look for the stars, the moon, even if I swear to God sometimes they don’t exist.

I peek outside my window. The sky is dark. Nothing. So, I decide to stand on my bed. I hold Sam Star’s map of Orion’s Belt. On the tips of my toes I reach for the stars on my ceiling –– rearranging, re-pasting.

Bellatrix. Rigel. Saiph. Meissa.

I fall to my back. Under the covers, I decide to finally look up. I see the stars clearly. I see the constellation. It is perfect. I hum Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja. I close my eyes.

The Queen of the Night

A type of forest cactus found in parts of Mexico. Traditional thinking says the flower is a reminder to enjoy the small moments because they do not last.