Pale Blue Dots

It was a rainy afternoon. I was walking down the alley, on my way back home. Everything was just as usual, nothing interesting, nothing that would sparkle the slightest bit of colour into this pale world. It has been this way since...

Adam stopped. It was useless thinking about it. Nothing he'd do would make things better, nothing would undo what has happened; nothing would bring her back. His mother passed, and nothing would solve that.

Back in the day, he would do anything possible to try to make her smile, even if it was only for a brief moment. The tiniest amount of joy was enough to lighten the whole day, so the two of them could stand the burden of living. Since the very first moment, when the doctor told them of the misfortune, it was crystal clear what he had to do, and he devoted his life to it.

She loved music. It was true passion, a childhood dream to pursue a career as a musician, performing and bringing to the world her way of seeing, reading, and especially feeling the repertoire she found most beautiful. Life had other plans for her, and she ended up putting this dream aside, but it was impossible to forget completely or ignore such an important part of who she was, and thus it became a foundation for her family, too.

Adam knew it, but no matter how hard he'd tried, he was never able to perform any instrument, to convey such raw emotions as his mother once could. Instead, he came up with a new idea: compose. He would try his best to make his mother's remaining time worthwhile; he would bring her all the joy, all the love she had put into their family.

But now, it is useless.

It is better to look for shelter. The light rain was getting heavier and heavier, and soon enough it became a storm; if I kept walking, my uniform would not dry in time to work the next day. As I looked for anything I could wait under, the sound of the raindrops hitting the streets managed to distract me for a while. Upon the chaos of the city, the blabbering of the people and the noisy, constant hiss that permeated everywhere, the loud storm was a little shelter where I could empty my mind, and so I did.

The sky was grey, the houses, pale and dull, and even the water didn't have its light, but rather looked like heavy drops of cement. But amidst all that, there was something that got my attention: little, faint blue stains on a distant tree. I stared at it, trying to understand what was happening, but could barely see a thing. Despite the tempest, I went closer.

There they were, two birds seeking shelter from the winds. They were taking care of each other, so deeply in love that even if the world were to end in water, they would be fine as long as they were together. Surrounded by the rain's loudness as it hit all sorts of obstacles, I could hear a light melody; they were singing. A song so fragile, yet so powerful...

I quickly opened my backpack and picked up my notebook. I had to note that down, to eternalise that moment. I opened it to the closest blank page, grabbed my pencil, and...

What was I doing again? As I stared at my notebook's soaked, white pages, all I could remember was that I had to get home as soon as possible. The sooner I wash the clothes, the sooner they will get dry. I closed the book and headed back to my previous way, down the grey alley.

Adam entered his house utterly soaked. He left his shoes at the entrance and crossed the corridor, passing through his old music room. It was there that he would spend days and nights, long hours overnight, only to gift brand new songs early in the morning every day, day after day, for what he wished had been more time, but it was as quick as the blink of an eye.

Despite the exhaustion, despite not having "lived his own life", whatever that meant, despite anything one could call a waste of time, all he ever wanted was that it lasted forever. It was tiring, of course, it was hard to make ends meet, but she was there with him, and nothing could replace that.

That room is now a dark, abandoned mess of sheet music over the floor and an old, dusty piano. Untouched, memories forgotten.

I took a shower and went straight to the laundry, so that I could at least hope my clothes would be dry enough for use by morning. There was something, though, that had been bothering me for some time, some colour, or was it a sound?

I was not sure, but since I found myself in the rain with a notebook in my hands earlier that day, I had that feeling. My heart had been beating stronger, my whole body had been tingling, and my head had been aching. It was as if something deep inside was trying to emerge, something long forgotten. As well as an urge to awaken that feeling for good, I felt a strong fear of doing so, and as I could not remember what happened anyway, I simply decided to forget it.

I took some pills for my headache and went to my bedroom. It was still bright outside, so I decided to open my window in order to refresh that old air, hoping it would bring a little more life into the room. The storm had already ceased when I arrived home, and even inside a busy city with little soil, it brought a fresh breeze into the place. It was all grey and pale, but all I could do was prepare for one more day ahead.

It was then that I heard a familiar sound in the distance. Suddenly, my heart started beating even more strongly, and my headache worsened. I quickly looked through the window, looking for the origin of those faint tweets, and found, once again, two blue pale dots chirping and flying just outside my room.

I remember now. Against the conditions, they loved; I loved. Despite what could happen, they cared; I cared. Inside an uncoloured world, those pale blue dots resisted, willing to find joy amidst chaos, and so did I. She would want me to keep going, to keep trying to paint this sombre world with brighter colours, to keep smiling.

I remember a melody so fragile, yet so powerful...