She said:

There is such joy, in seeing and being seen.

Celebrate with me. Join me outside, open wide your arms so that your heart can follow, and turn to face the sky (I have reason to believe it has been waiting for a chance to kiss the overwhelming beauty of your smiling face).

To which she replied:

I did it. I went outside and stood in the quiet street (such a rarity in this bustling, splitting-at-the-seams, overpopulated country). I closed my eyes and reached my arms out and above me almost asking the earth for a hug. It felt a little bit like fishing; throwing your net wide over the sea almost snagging the horizon. When you do that, when you throw open the net of your heart and dare to trust the Universe, you will never go home empty-handed.

When you throw the net over the sky, you are bound to catch stars.

That is what happens when you see a falling star, didn’t you know? Stars don’t just drop out of the sky. When you see a falling star it means that someone has been starfishing, and has struck it lucky. You should try and catch it if you can; not to keep though. But so you can give it back to the rightful starfisherperson.

They say you can only catch stars at night, but I don’t think that’s true. They are always there. Just because we can’t see them doesn’t mean they’ve gone. Besides, it is always night somewhere in the world. And that means it’s someone else’s turn to catch their star.

I threw my heart open that one night. I did not think it would snare the tail of a mermaid that lived on the moon. I did not think I would catch something as quiet or as brilliant as you.

And then she responded with:

I did it.

I went out to the fields and stood still, silent and with my eyes closed for a while; listening to everything in and around me. All of me pounding: chest, knees, temples, tongue; my breath growing ever so heavier with excitement for life.

I waited. (Only to prove that I still remember how to wait). Arms stretched out, chest drawn forward, I waited. And when I was certain that the yell had grown in me, when I could feel my nape surrender and the possibility of exhaling was no more, I opened my eyes.

Laughter. To my surprise, laughter was all I had. The simplest, most natural form of gratitude.

And then the swoosh of a flock of starlings ripped the sky above me as they flew out to meet the approaching storm.