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His soul caught its breath at the sight, like a swimmer coming up from the depths. For that moment he could separate beauty from his grief, and celebrate, if only ambivalently, that there was still a world of goodness apart from, or bigger than, his aching loneliness.
Above and behind the aerial ballet of bird flight, the clouds began to robe themselves in color, as if the sky too, was fighting for the heart of this wounded man. The slow, subtle changes, akin to tilting a cluster of opal beneath light, in which one tint dissolves into another, hinted that the great expanse overhead was alive, a thriving nest of angels of hope.
The sheer wonderment of the moment, the wings of fifty thousand birds, and the intoxicating surplus of beauty, overwhelmed him, as though a rope that had been pulled taut that tied him to the darkness of Tita’s death had snapped and fallen powerless to the ground.
Theo’s eyes filled with tears again - weariness? Hope? Forgiveness? Surrender? - as he laid his head back and looked into the open sky above him.
A single star caught his eye.
A tiny glimmer.
Searching from horizon to horizon, he confirmed that it was the first and only star in the sky.’
‘Looking back on that moment, he realized that in the time between the quarter hour before sunset and the star of dusk, somehow…this splintered soul had begun to heal. It would happen in fits and starts. It would be a healing that would never, at least in this life, be total or final. But it was the moment when the fever broke for him.’
‘In every place that he ever lived after that, he insisted that his home be within walking distance of a river with a view to the west, and a bench…’
‘And, on many days…he would check the exact time of sunset to ensure that he would be punctual for his date with a ten-year-old girl whose laughter was a murmuration and whose memory was a single star, the brightest in all the sky.
”
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