Stargazers

A short story, last revised 13/8/13

It was night, though the dull shine of the distant gas-giant sent wisps of colour around the horizon. Still, though the horizon seemed trapped in eternal sunset, my son and I had retrieved the telescope and set it up on the beach outside. A sea, fresh with a slight tinge of something strange, lapped at the shores a few metres away. It had taken me many years to acclimate to this sea. It did not ebb and flow with the tides, it did not carry with it the abrasive salt foam. This sea was calm, with the only few wind-swept ripples carefully caught by the bay’s entrance. To either side of me, dotting the shoreline of this small oasis other small houses like mine shining like strange violet crystals in the glow. A single small boat slid over the water, its occupant heading for home.

I looked through the eyepiece only to see a flurry of confused dots and artefacts. I couldn't help but grit my teeth and let out a hiss. Sam didn’t stir on the lounge opposite. His dreams were peaceful in a way only the earliest years brought. He could fall asleep believing with certainty that everything was somehow going to be alright when he woke up.

Still nothing on that damned telescope. Adjust Z tilt? What does that even mean?

Inside, my wife sang softly to herself. I could hear her voice, faint and carrying as she went on about some task. Soft, like a breeze, it wafted over me and warmed me and lifted the corners of my mouth. Some forgotten tune from an age ago. My father's age, an age of frailty and fear and nomadic longing. The notes made Sam shift in his sleep, as if nuzzling into her neck. I pushed my toes deeper into the sand.

A few more seemingly random presses on the screen, and a glance into the eyepiece. There. There it was.

"Sam." He stirred, but fell back deeper into the cosiness of the chair. "Sam, wake up."

Blue eyes, sharp eyes, opened slowly. "Did you find it Daddy?" He shuffled over and sat down next to me and moved over the eyepiece. My son had been born here. You could tell already, by his unusual frame. Here, in this cosy frontier, he had been brought into a world where home was as fluid and plural as the stars in the sky. When the time came when a man's breathe comes heavy and his bones ache and he needs a home, would it be in the cradle, or some yet unimagined world that lay beyond the scope of my imagination?

"Which one is it? There are so many."

"Do you see the 3 in a row, like a line? The one on the left."

Sam looked away for a moment to make an "L" with his fingers, before returning his eye tightly to the rubber seal. "It's so dull. I thought it would be brighter. Is that where you're from?"

"That's where we're all from."

"But Mama said I got born in the hospital in-"

"I mean it's where we're all from in the beginning. I was born there, Mama was born there, Granddad was born there."

"Jakie Smith was born on Elquis."

"Well where was Jakie Smith's parents born?"

"I dunno."

"Probably there." I pointed up at the sky.

"Okay."

He looked back through the telescope and I wondered if he'd ever visit our cradle. Or, like all adolescents, it was time to move on from our home and see what was over the horizon. The frontier stood all around them, touchable, tangible, infinite. It scared me, but I don't think it scared Sam. I think Sam craved that frontier, and there was nothing for him in the old haunt of humanity.

"It's so small."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

I sat for a while longer with his head on my lap while the glow from the horizon faded and a cool wind swept through the bay. Clouds began forming on the distant mountains and I picked him up and carried him towards the soft, melodic singing, his eyes already closed.