Neve had been walking most of the afternoon,
Following a trail that wound slowly through the hills just outside the village.
The sky above was white and pale,
Streaked with the final gold of a fading day.
Her bag was light,
With only a flask of tea,
A scarf and an old book inside.
Beneath her arm,
She carried a soft,
Worn blanket.
She climbed until the ground began to level out,
A quiet,
Grassy ridge overlooking the valley below.
There she stopped,
No reason,
No thought,
Just the feeling that this was the place to rest.
The grass was thick and cool beneath her feet.
She laid the blanket out gently,
Pressing the corners down with smooth stones.
It was a little frayed at the edges.
Its colors faded in places,
But it had held warmth for years,
And it still smelled faintly of lavender.
She sat down,
Poured herself a small cup of tea,
And looked up at the sky.
The stars were beginning to arrive,
First just one or two,
Blinking in the still blue sky,
Then more,
Dozens and then hundreds,
Revealing themselves slowly,
Without rush.
She lay back.
The blanket held her,
Soft and familiar,
And the sky above expanded,
Swallowing the horizon.
The stars stretched in every direction,
Some barely visible,
Others bold and steady.
It felt like she could fall upward into them if she wasn't careful.
Neve took a slow breath,
And another,
Letting the air in the valley settle into her chest,
Letting the day fall away.
Somewhere,
An owl called once,
Then was silent.
Crickets had begun their evening rhythm,
Making just enough sound to fill the spaces between the stars.
Her body softened.
She brought the blanket up over her shoulders and curled onto her side.
The world around her felt paused,
Like it was waiting patiently for her to exhale.
And she did,
With a deep,
Slow sigh.
Above her,
A star shifted,
Not moved exactly,
But shimmered with such intention it felt like it was speaking just to her.
It reminded her of a time that her grandmother once told her that stars were messages from a gentler part of the universe.
Ones that reminded us that we belong,
That we're a part of something wider,
Older and kinder.
She let her eyes relax,
Not focusing on any one point in the sky.
The whole of it,
The deep,
Velvet blue,
The glinting lights,
The quiet,
It all wrapped around her.
Her thoughts began to loosen and drift softly,
Each one rising like a tiny balloon floating away on the night air.
Neve imagined the blanket underneath her was no longer fabric,
But made of stars.
Woven from the night itself,
Threads of moonlight and old constellations stitched together with dreams.
It cradled her gently,
Reminding her she had no need to rise now.
She didn't need to carry.
She didn't need to do anything but rest.
In the distance,
The faintest glimmer of a shooting star crossed the sky.
She didn't make a wish.
There was nothing she needed to ask for in this moment.
Her breath slowed.
She felt herself drifting.
Somewhere between her body and the sky,
She slipped into a space made only for sleep.
The stars above blinked slowly,
Simply being with her,
Each settling into their own peaceful rest.
She imagined each one as a tiny lantern,
Held by some quiet soul in another part of the universe.
Every light a kindness,
Relaxing her body.
Every glimmer a lullaby,
Soothing her mind.
The blanket beneath her shifted slightly as she turned,
Nestling deeper into its warmth.
Her cheek rested gently against the fabric.
The Earth seemed to remember just the right way to hold her so that she could let go fully into its embrace.
Her breath deepened,
In and out.
No effort,
Just the gentle rhythm.
Just the cool air,
The quiet stars,
And the soft hum of a world that had finally let out a deep sigh as it settled down to rest.
Time passed,
Though she didn't notice.
The stars continued their ancient dance.
The Earth held her without question.
The night deepened,
And Neve,
Wrapped in a blanket made of sky and sleep,
Let herself go completely.
There was nothing else to do.
Nowhere else to be.
Just this,
The edge of dreaming,
The hush of the hills,
And the wide starlit silence of a night that never rushed.
