eyes over the tails of shooting stars and fixed my eyes on
distant galaxies. I began to realize it was in those darkest
of nights when everything shone brightly even more.
The arctic wind picks up, stinging my eyes. I pull my scarf up
around my cheeks and head back into the bus, where I wait
with the others in warmth and listen to Magnus spin tales of
Norwegian legends. Every few minutes, someone rushes outside
to check if any signs of the aurora borealis arise. When nothing
appears in the sky, Magnus decides to take us to another
checkpoint. As the land turns even more rugged and icy, it seems
like he is taking us farther and farther away from civilization.
We look out the window, keeping our eyes wary for any signs
of the northern lights, but when a few hours pass and midnight
approaches, we sense we might not get to see them at all.
We stop at the final checkpoint, the farthest post, the
coldest, and the darkest. Everyone sits in silence, their
eyelids slowly drooping under the weight of sleep, but my
heart is being stirred in a way I’ve never felt before.
We have to wait until it gets darker...or else we won’t be able
to see the light. His words repeat over and over in