“Mais les yeux sont aveugles. Il faut chercher avec le cœur” Mom whispered softly behind my ear. Her words gently pulled me back into the conscious moment, into my seat, into the bearing of the persistent engine hum, and the hustle and bustle of a full evening flight to London.
I was anxious and worried and could not stay away from the window. It wasn’t a fear of flying. Au contraire, by age 4, I was a seasoned traveler, I flew internationally as soon as they handed me my first passport. But this time, I was completely consumed by an overwhelming fear of blinking, and taking my eyes away from the inky, star sprinkled sky for even a second.
He is out there, and I could miss him! I was internally agonizing filled with unease… We are not on our balcony, wishing him goodnight before bed, we are here, among the stars, his asteroid could be at my eye’s reach… this is the moment I’ve been dreaming of ever since devouring with intense scrutiny every delicious sonant spilled from my mother’s mouth, giving me each night a skimpy serving of the most luscious bed time story treat of my life, my first love, The Little Prince. 
I was finally close to seeing him, his golden hair, seeing his asteroid, the baobabs, the sheep, his rose! I am exactly where I longed to be, or at least as close as I could be, considering the state of space travel in that moment, and nothing was more important to me…unlike my mother’s grown-up limited priorities, this was a serious matter.
The first of many anxious night flights ended in pouty silence and a sense of mislay. It was late, and I was drained. The next morning mom let me sleep late, and as soon as I opened my eyes, and yawned for the first time, before I could even begin to recall the events of last night, she ran into my bed, and playfully between kisses uttered: “It’s the time that you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important. . . . People have forgotten this truth,” “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose. . . .”
My mother taught me many lessons in life, she did it up front and directly, much sooner than I could ever really understand and learn most of them. Many of those lessons I am still in process of learning. But now that I am a grown-up, with what my daughter probably considers a somewhat dulled down perspective and priorities, I realize the full extent of my mother’s desire and well executed plan to inspire me to fully, secret by secret, explore and experience each of the lessons for myself. 
Over the years and many window seat flights, I was responsible for my Little Prince and my dream of seeing him, I spent time on him, it’s what made him so important to me. He taught me that everything I ever thought I fully knew and understood was never finite. I stopped looking for B612 when I learned to calmly and confidently close my window shutter, and my eyes, and begin to clearly hear and see what is truly essential, straight trough my heart.
Categories: Lost in Translation, Love and Lore
Tags: asteroid, B612, baobab tree, chilhood, first love, fox, grown-up, love, rose, The Little Prince
spacegoons blog 
That reminds me of the first part of that old song Little Boy.
When I was a little boy,
my mother said to me,
“Watch the newborn roses grow
It’s a pretty sight to see
You, my son, shall blossom
As the flowers below
I will be your raindrops
You will be my rose”
So lovely! Thank you, edwinlives4ever. 🙂