The Moon Taught Me I’m Lucky

I was feeling sort of small and insignificant just then

I was thinking about how sad it was that my parents couldn’t see the moon from their bedroom

And how the moon presents itself to billions of people every night and yet, there are so many who don’t bother looking at it for entire weeks at a stretch. It’s right there, they’re lucky enough, but they don’t get to feel the sort of wonder I do every night because they sub-consciously choose not to!

I felt so sorry for them.

I closed my eyes and, like I often do, whooshed up and up till I could see everything in the room from the ceiling. A little higher and my whole apartment was below me. More, and more, and more, and I could see the city lights twinkling, and then the whole state, and then all of India, and then I could hear the sea. In seven more seconds, I was so high up I could only see the clouds, pink clouds, and the ocean water and dark patches of land polka-dotted with lights playing hide-and-seek behind them.

7.1 billion, there are 7.1 billion people on this planet and I am looking down at all of them. 7.1 billion people! I’m incredibly small and insignificant. I am 0.0000000140845% of the human population breathing on this planet right now. The human population, only one of 8.7 million other species we share our world with. It’s overwhelming, but I felt powerful.

I’m in the sky, watching, and I will stay here for a while because it’s quiet, and beautiful, and peaceful, and I decide what happens next.

I love it when people look at the sky and think of me, think of texting me that they thought of me and that I should go look at the sky right now! The moon is so big and beautiful! I’ve always thought Mars seemed slightly red; what about you? 
It’s so flattering.

Thinking of the moon always reminds me of my best friend because of all the times we’ve met just to look at the night sky together and because of how we used to call each other to cry about the sky. Mars and Venus form triangles with other stars, Jupiter is extra bright tonight, and who needs constellations, anyway?

I was so glad I get to share that kind of joy with him. That’s when it hit me – there are 7.1 billion people who don’t even know my best friend exists. They have no idea who he is as a person. And I felt so genuinely sorry for them. 

Given the gift of coloured vision, only fools would choose not to exploit it fully. The moon presents itself to billions of people every night, and billions go without looking at its reds and oranges and yellows and blues for weeks.. that’s their fault. But 7.1 billion people, for no fault of their own, will never get to have memories with my best friend. Another 0.0000000140845% of the billions. We’re just two tiny pinpricks. The chances of us turning up in each other lives were negligible, so that must mean that everything is a miracle! We’re miracles.

I get the memories, I get this person, this angel that billions others don’t, and I am so lucky. I’d never been more grateful.

How small and insignificant could I possibly feel after realizing all of this? Smiling, I floated back down, taking my time.

don’t you think we’re kind of magical?