When I look at the stars, I see several things depending on my mood.
I see Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night while I hear Don McLean sing ‘Vincent.’ I hear Mufasa explain that the stars are the Kings of the Past looking over us. I pretend the stars are my ancestors watching over my family and me.
And I think of the case I lost.
I am going to call him Tony. He committed a terrible crime and was sentenced to death. There was nothing that could have changed the verdict and all appeals failed. The United States Supreme Court refused to intervene and Tony was executed. But before he was, he wrote me a letter.
He thanked me (and the rest of the team, of course) for everything we had done and understood that it was near impossible. So, he wanted me to know that he didn’t held grudges and didn’t want me to feel guilty. He told me that one of the things that kept him sane on death row was to look out of his window at the night sky. He’d pretend that the stars were his friends, all talking to him, and talked back to them.
So, depending on my mood I see the past, I see guardian angels, I see friends talking to me. And I quietly talk back.