Paintbrush
The night was freezing, with temperatures well below anything I would normally strip down to my bathing suit and sandals for. The wind bit into my bare arms and legs, teeth as sharp as razors as we walked, wrapped in towels, out into the pitch black darkness. The walk felt much longer than it actually was, crossing the patch of dirt road, trying not to trip over gouges in the Earth and large rocks along the way. The feeling of pure adrenaline building in my veins.
I heard the chattering and laughing of people already relieved of the cold they’d felt just moments before. I kicked off my sandals and slipped out of the towel, my only protection from the cold, and placed them where other people’s belongings lay. My breath immediately left my body and I gasped, frantically swallowing for air. I carefully crawled into the water of the hot spring, slipping on the algae built up over years on the rocks below my feet, I let it’s natural warmth envelope me, coaxing my breath back to it’s normal state. Once I finally was able to breathe again, my body temperature regulated, I looked up.
That moment is etched into my memory for eternity. Bright stars littered the sky above, like splashes from an artist’s paintbrush. No city lights, no cell phones, no street lights, nothing to interfere. Just the stars existing how they always have and I, for the first time, really seeing.
This short story is recalling our time spent traversing the Salt Flats of Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia. One of the hostels we stayed in had a natural hot spring a short walk away and we were told to go for a dip at night, when the stars shined the brightest. I’ll never forget this moment.
