Twinkle Twinkle Little Star-How I wonder What you are

Jules Heartly | December 2024

I woke up like a compass needle finding north. The clock’s face stared back at me, its hands pointing to that haunting hour – the same time a few years ago when the phone rang and the news crashed like a wave against my shores.

I got up, drawn to the window like a moth to a flame. A cloudless sky spread like an infinite dark canvas. The three stars of Orion’s Belt aligned once again – Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka, strung like pearls on an invisible thread in the winter sky over New York.

What were the real names of those stars? As a child, they were mysteries wrapped in starlight. My parents wove tales of the three kings, like celestial breadcrumbs leading to faith. But astronomers paint a different portrait – above them, Betelgeuse pulses like a cosmic heartbeat, while Rigel stands sentinel below, a diamond marking the hunter’s foot.

Tonight, such labels melted away like morning frost. Other stars winked at me like old friends, while Venus blazed in the western sky like a torch bearer, outshining everything but the Moon. The brightness in the sky has always been like nature’s jewelry box, as precious to me as the ever-changing clouds that drift like thoughts across the heavens. The winter sky over New York offers some of the year’s best stargazing . iT unfolds like an astronomical theatre – the Summer Triangle taking its final bow in the west, while the winter hexagon rises in the east -, with Capella, Aldebaran, and the Pleiades cluster weaving their ancient stories like cosmic storytellers.

My dad used to say the holiday lights were earth’s echo of the stars – bringing celestial magic down to our level, like borrowed starlight scattered through our streets and homes like seeds of joy. “Everyone carries their own inner constellation,” he would say, “and this time of year, those personal stars shine brightest.”

The holiday spirit spreads like wildfire – lights twinkling like earthbound stars, music floating like invisible ribbons, laughter bubbling up like springs of joy. These moments aren’t fleeting sparks – they’re the building blocks of memory’s cathedral. These sensory experiences trigger the hippocampus to encode these moments more deeply,

Our minds are like specialized cameras during these times, capturing joy and connection in high definition. Every sensory detail – cinnamon and pine dancing in the air, familiar carols wrapping around us like warm blankets, treasured decorations smooth as river stones – these experiences carve neural pathways like rivers through stone, creating channels we’ll revisit for years to come.

My dad loved holiday lights, but his true luminance came from within – he was like a human lighthouse, his presence illuminating rooms, his voice painting stories like a master artist. Whether addressing a packed auditorium or sharing tales across our dinner table, he was a conductor of souls, making each person feel like the most important instrument in his orchestra. His gift for public speaking wasn’t just in his eloquence – it was in how he connected with every single person, making them feel seen, heard, and valued.

What I miss most is his ability to spin ordinary moments into golden yarns, finding wonder in life’s simple threads – like those stars above us. His spirituality ran deep as tree roots, far beyond religious doctrine.

His faith wasn’t just something he practiced; it was something he lived and breathed, it was his oxygen, remaining steadfast until his final moment. until his final heartbeat.

During the holidays, he would say the real miracle lay not in the grand symphony of celebrations, but in the quiet notes of connection – both with each other and with our higher selves. The holiday season, he believed, was when the fabric between worlds grew thin as gossamer, allowing us to feel our loved ones and divine nature like a whispered prayer.

Writing about him, especially in his beloved season, keeps our connection humming like an eternal frequency. Late at night, his voice still floats through my mind like a familiar melody, suggesting the perfect word or urging deeper exploration. Through these words, he lives on like an endless echo, touching lives far beyond his earthly years.

Yes, he delighted in holiday treats like a child with treasures, but his true joy sparked from the festival of lights. Yet it was during this season that his heart fell silent, and my dad became loudly invisible. He transformed himself most likely into a star we can no longer see but know is still there, shaping our universe.

Those first nights after, I wondered if his soul’s eyes watched the same stars, if he could still trace the clouds’ ballet. I hope he did. I still believe he does.

Last night, seeking sleep’s embrace with warm tea as my companion, my tree lights greeted me like old friends bearing messages of remembrance.

There’s cosmic poetry in how various religious holidays cluster around this time, when certain stars stand guard in the sky. The winter solstice has long been humanity’s lantern in the darkness, from ancient solar rituals to modern celebrations. It calls to us like a celestial chorus, inviting us to capture light’s essence and share it like precious gems with others.

This holiday season, many of us celebrate with empty chairs at our tables – missing dads, moms, siblings, partners, friends, or beloved pets who were once our north stars. Though tears may fall like winter rain, let’s cherish our memories like treasured photographs and create new ones like inspired artists at blank canvases.

Our brains are emotional sponges during these times, soaking up both joy and sorrow to weave tomorrow’s tapestry of memories. Share stories like passing torches, plant new traditions like seeds of hope, let laughter and tears flow like cleansing streams. These moments with our present loved ones are like building blocks, constructing the foundation of tomorrow’s precious memories.

For me, beyond the precious time with my close ones, I celebrate joyfully with you, my readers, who shine like constellations in my writer’s sky. Your presence in my journey glows like a guiding star, lighting my path forward with GRATITUDE.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Thank you for reading my blog. I WOULD love to hear your related stories.

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