Work Text:
The sky is a tapestry of the cosmos laid out before her, telling a story of galaxies in the midst of creation and on the verge of collapse.
Ellie lies beneath the expansive blanket of night, one arm resting behind her head and the other on her belly, her Walkman clasped in her hand. A quilt made from squares of soft, worn flannel, lovingly stitched by Maria from different shirts of Joel’s, cushions her body from the hard ground. As she watches the stars travel across the sky, Ellie likes to run her fingers reverently across the fabric.
Closing her eyes, she imagines she can smell him in the warm summer breeze: wood shavings, leather soap, and gun oil. She lets the scent envelop her as she presses play on her tape player. The recording starts, and Ellie knows each word as if it’s imprinted on her brain.
Still, every time she hears the countdown begin, a sense of anticipation and wonder fills her, and for a moment, she’s sixteen again, sitting in a space capsule. The skin behind her elbows and knees is tacky with sweat, her breath is hot in the confines of the helmet on her head, and the same recording plays in her ears.
She slowly opens her eyes, her gaze drawn to the moon, luminous and round, casting a silvery glow across the velvety black stretch of the night sky. She wonders if she took a telescope and pointed it at the pocked and pitted surface, whether she would find a sheep ranch nestled within one of its many valleys. And would she find Joel whole and hearty on the porch of that sheep ranch, rocking quietly back and forth with a guitar in his lap, a song on his lips, and a soft, warm smile waiting just for her?