It has been eleven years from the day, that day so long ago, the day where I left my home behind, forsaking my world for another.I stood here, right here, on this bridge coated in white marble, bronze, and gold. The bridge of kings… that’s what I once called it. It was shaped for the Sun King, or another… that does not matter now. I stood overlooking the Seine, a river filled with mystery in its murky waters, unseen to the eyes of men. The green waves parting as the barges flow up River; the people on the boats looking to the world around them, feeling the cool breeze and the smell of… well I am not quite sure of the smell; the smell was like taking a deep breath under a peer. It’s a wonderful smell really, and the chests, oh the chests, the ones that line the side of the paths that give shape to the water, and the people look ever on, and on, and on, at the beauty of the world before them. I see the smiles, the smiles that I had, that I have, and I see the city as it was, as it is, and as I want it to be; they are all one now.
I see a boy, he looks familiar, but I cannot place a name to his face. He is running around the bridge, up and down, around strangers and statues. Brown hair flowing in the breeze as he runs, he brings a crowd to the edge of the rail and points towards the towering figure in the distance. A woman approaches and places her hand on his shoulder; she kneels down, embraces him, and looks towards the tower. He says to the woman, “Mom, when will they come here?” full of excitement, “when can I see the stars?” She turns to him, placing a hand on his face she says, “I’m bringing them to you, just wait.” My eyes take me over the bridge, across the green waters, and above the buildings until… There it was, towering above it all. The giant bronze tower glowing in the spotlight, it stands above the world it seems. I mutter to myself, “Please. One last time, bring them to me.” There was silence across Paris that Night, on that clear night, as the world waited for…
The bells sound from the Great Towers that the gargoyles protect, playing a sweet symphony over the rooftops to send off the twilight. The ensemble rings through the air and flows as the waves below me. The first bell rings, I see the boy, leaning over the bridge staring where I did, looking on for the stars to fly down from the heavens. Two, the winds begin to blow and the trees rustle in the wind; I can smell the sweet Sour dough from boulangerie at the edge of the bridge, and I can smell the smoke of the candles that filled the Seine, the candles that caused a change in the boy as if he had stood amongst the heavens and gazed across the cosmos. Three, the sun sails to the corner of the sky, gracing the limits of our world with its radiant light; the great soul paints the blue sea with delicate shades of orange and pink, then the sea darkens and its art begins to fade. Four, lights burst forth and the roads glow, the city prepares for the change; the city prepares for something that had never taken place until that day, that day... Five, I see crowds next to me; the boy and the mother move closer, and closer, until I can see them no more, it is as if we are one in this moment. Six, I hear his voice, “mother, where are the stars; have you brought them?” I turn to my right to see them, but I see no one, no one. I hear the mother say, “look up my child, I’ve brought them for you.” I looked up; seven, a tear rolled down my cheek; I felt a change as the child before me, and with the emotion of the boy I said, “I’m home.”Every person in the city stopped to see, for the first time, how the stars from the heavens came down to light the twilight and greet the night, with flashes of radiant silver and white. The percussion dimmed and the ensemble was still, the wind quiet, and the city froze in time. The boy and I gaze, and gaze, and gaze. After only five minutes, the lights fade. Up in the tower a switch is pulled, and one by one the circuits feel the current that diminish the lights that once brought awe to the city. The wind returns and Paris begins to breathe as before. As I turn, I notice that I am alone, that I was alone. There is no crowd, no boy, and no mother. It has been eleven years since the day that the heavenly lights first graced the panorama of Paris, and now, I stand alone on the bridge looking at the tower with the sparkling lights. Each glance I took over the water lit up my face, I had just seen it again, for the first time, but every glance I now take follows the lights with the pull of a switch. I thought I would always have the stars, even if to the city they became less heavenly, but I guess some things are better left unseen, better left as a memory. It has been eleven years from the day that I stood on the bridge, this bridge, standing in the crowd with my mother; It has been eleven years since the first time the stars came down from the sky, and as I turn now to walk down the Champs Elysees, I know in my heart, that even the brightest stars can fade.