Sea of Stars

3/3

* Harlow *

The grass rustles beneath me as I change my position. I look at the headstone that I am sitting next to and rub the moss off so that her name is disclosed. I write in my notebook and hum to myself, the smell of moss after rain like petrichor. I wonder where this line will fit in my song.

I hear a snap nearby, which startles me because I am usually the only one to visit during these hours, and the graveyard is remarkably quiet apart from the singing of birds and chirps of crickets. I look up from my notebook to see a tall, teenage boy with brown, curly hair and cocoa-colored skin holding a skateboard in his left arm. It seems as if he is walking toward me, until he whists and then begins to walk toward a tombstone behind me. I turn to watch, hoping that I am not too obvious in my attempt to spy. I am curious why this boy has suddenly visited the cemetery when I have come almost every night for two years and have never seen him. He kneels next to the grave of an individual who I notice had passed in 1968. The person the tombstone belongs to clearly did not live during this boy's life, so I speak up, "Hey."

I am at a loss for what else to say with this instantaneous instinct to say something. I would have said more, but I am scared that I will scare the boy away. He turns from the tombstone, sighing and responds with, "Hello." He has a soft, mellifluous voice, similar to Indigo's. This surprises me and a whiff of nostalgia is brought upon me. I remember the conversations that Indigo and I had whenever we greeted each other at school in the morning. "Hey, Indie!" I would say, and she would reply with, "Hello, Harlow!"

"So, what brings you here?" I ask. "I come here often and I have never seen you. That gravestone also spells out a death date that probably was before your birthday." I am shocked by how fast and abruptly I speak. I feel unusually comfortable talking, and it feels as if I am conversing with my best friend again.

* Jess *

I am relived from hearing the calm words because I probably would not have spoken first. However, I am taken aback by the girl's realization of the death dates on the headstone and I decide to tell her the truth, "Well, I was actually contemplating how to start a conversation with you in my head because I had heard you singing several times when I skated on this road." I intentionally omit the fact that I had brought my skateboard to Old Vine Road every night for five weeks to hear her sing because I lacked company.

I examine the girl's cheerful reaction as she giggles and replies, "You remind me of a friend I used to know."

"Oh, really?" I smile, "My name is Jess." I reach out my hand and the girl shakes it, saying "Nice to meet you too. My name is Harlow." She beams, and her eyes twinkle as if she hasn't had a reason to smile for a long time. Harlow and I continue to chat and learn that we have a lot in common. I realize that tonight is the first time that I have had a contemplative conversation with another for a while. We speak for hours, and when morning comes we both prepare to leave. I step on my skateboard and start to head home as Harlow says, "Jess Slader, of all the places we both could have been, we met each other, and the sea of stars have brought us together. I can foresee a building, imperishable friendship with you," and trots away in the opposite direction.

"I can too, Harlow," I say to myself since she has jogged too far to hear, "We will be the best of friends."