Chasing Daylight "And we sat on your car While the light from the stars Poked holes in the sky" - Sister Hazel, Everything Else Disappears

The thing I remember most about seeing Oregon for the first time is chasing daylight for an hour. Watching the colours of the sky from my window seat on the ‘plane; watching the blue change slowly, slowly, slowly. The aeroplane chased the setting sun, and it seemed to take forever until the sun sank below the horizon, but when it did, it was worth it; beautiful. There was no actual sunset, just the stars opening up onto a canvas of pinks, purples and oranges. As we descended into the airport, the sky darkened slowly to a velvet, inky dark blue, but the stars were there. I noticed the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt, and realised that some things were still going to be the same as at home, back in Ireland and Scotland. We were thousands of miles away now, but at least the stars were still the same.
The drive to the new house when we were all exhausted seemed to last forever, but when we arrived, it invigorated us. Our new house had a view over the complex swimming pool: it was empty and lit up, shining like an aquamarine in the dark. We didn’t care that it was out-of-bounds. My sister and I walked up to it, through the gate, and sat on the sun loungers, looked up at the sky and said nothing. When we’d left Ireland, it had been cold, windy and threatening rain. Here in Oregon, it was warm and almost humid, there wasn’t a cloud in sight, and I could see more stars than I knew existed. My sister reached out to touch my hand, and whispered, as though talking any louder would break whatever spell had come over our arrival: “I can see The Big Dipper. Up there,” and pointed to it.
I smiled, and entwined our fingers for a second, giving her hand a squeeze. “Aye, I saw it on the ‘plane when we came in. Orion’s Belt’s there, too. Just like home.”
We got up and easily found our way home, just a quick walk down the street under the moonlight and streetlight, opening an unusual but soon-to-be-familiar door, up a set of stairs to find Mum and Dad in the kitchen having a cup of tea already. “We’re going to bed once we’re done,” they said, and Lorna and I both nodded. We’d gone from exhausted to exhilarated and straight back to exhausted again. “Us, too,” we both agreed. We’d discussed and agreed bedrooms on the walk home.
When we woke in the morning, the stars were covered in a cloak of daylight, but I knew they were still there. And there was more here, anyway, than stars. New adventures. New friends.
A chance to chase my stars and whatever I wanted.