I was in Europe for the past month, and although it was a trip I will never forget for some adverse reasons, there were some very big highlights as well. Among those various highlights is a sight I saw before I even stepped foot in any European space.

I boarded my flight from Houston around four pm on December 13, after hurriedly packing my bags that morning, and trying to do last-minute shopping. As often happens with last-minute plans there is an element of stress that follows you around to every destination, not to mention despite loving to travel, I have pretty bad travel anxiety and, so I had a knot in my stomach the entire day.

Needless to say, I was not a happy camper when I reached the airport, and until I got on the airplane I was a bundle of nerves jittering around. I have been on airplanes a plethora of times, and usually on the late evening/night flights my game plan includes getting into the plane, popping a Z-Quil, and sleeping until I’m about an hour from my destination, but on this flight, I was armed with a couple of texts I had been dying to read, and so I began my journey to Europe with a copy of Nature by Emerson in my hands.

Call me superstitious, but I think fate had a part in the gem of a sight I was going to see. Like I said earlier, usually on flights I rarely look outside because I’m knocked out, but on this flight, I had paused to take a break from Emerson and decided to peer outside into the seeming abyss. At first, that’s the only way I would describe it. Endless darkness illuminated only by the small light on the end of the airplane’s wing, then something moved. It looked like a shooting star, and for a moment I thought I was seeing things.

My brain had finally caught up with me, and I was now hallucinating, but it was not so. As I kept looking, I noticed more and more stars falling, and I wondered where they were going. From my vantage, it appeared as if the stars were falling into a cloud, and at that time I remember wondering if the inside of the cloud looked as magical as I was imagining it to be.

I spent a great deal of time looking out that window at the stars that moved and was reminded of a quote that I absolutely adore from Nature. Emerson writes, “The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression when the mind is open to their influence.”

At that very moment, it felt all too real. The stars that seemed so far away on a normal night were so close, as if, if I stuck my hand out that window I would be able to touch them. I cannot explain this experience as anything short of magical, and among the memories that I have in my repertoire, this one is one of my favorites.

Experiences like this really emphasize the wonders of the world, and I was lucky to fall in love with the stars all over again somewhere in between New York and Amsterdam.