Dear Universe

A Story by morii

A simple thank you.

Dear Universe, Thank you for coffee, cold breezes, and soft lighting, and love. As your children, I do not think we give credit to the building blocks you supply to make our days a little more delightful. You fill us with star-dust and sunlight. Water us so that we may grow toward your heavens. Read us beautiful picture books filled with constellations, meteor showers, nebulas, and comets. You part the skies so that we may gaze upon the fast blue oceans above us. When we mourn, your black veil covers your eyes as you weep heavily with us. You give your children snow days, leaf piles, and summer nights. Dim the sun so that we may rest, cry, scream, love in the privacy of night. Universe, many people blame you for what you have no control over -karma, the will of Fortuna, sad and angry days. But, Universe, between you and me, you are an empty nester, and we must learn for ourselves how to circumnavigate your seas. We are your children, but you are not held responsible for our actions. I am sorry about that. I, too, blamed you. You are there to guide us, not provide answers, not to give us one opportunity to the next, or lead us away from ill will. I understand that now. You harbor no vendetta against any one of your children, and not one of us is your favorite. When we hurt, you hurt. And some of us ache with agony. That is a large cross to bear. I apologize for the burden we place on you. It must be hard in ways I cannot comprehend. So, thank you, Universe, you make every trouble that much easier to withstand. I know we do not talk as much as we used to. That is my fault. I no longer ask musing questions in the dark of my sanctuary after you have put all your children to sleep; no more what-ifs, hows, and whys. As though I hold all the answers you also know. How presumptuous of me. I seem to now only cast judgment upon your unwritten tutorial on how to live my best life as a human. I will do better to try to follow your softly guiding hand. Universe, this is hard. But, finding your carefully woven lessons placed affectionately at every milestone reminds me why we continue this vicious cycle of blame, repentance, blame, blame, blame, blame. There is so much muddling your love. Say, Universe, why don’t we share a coffee sometime? I so love your coffee. Perhaps one day, you will be kind enough to share the recipe with me. Then, when you are tired and sad and feel like there is nowhere to go, and the only option is to disappear, I can make a pot of your coffee. And I can listen to your troubles as you do for all of us. I do not mind if you chastise us. So, hello, Universe. I am writing to say thank you. Thank you for sage candles, and laughter, and thunderstorms in May, and chrysanthemums. Especially chrysanthemums. Thank you for autumn, and me, and the moon in the late afternoon, and piano scores. I am particularly fond of piano scores. Thank you for giving us each other. I do not think we would have made it this far without each other. Thank you. Thank you so much. You did a good job. On… On everything. It is wonderful, Universe. I hope you can see that too. We are you, Universe. You made us that way. Yours, with love, Me