I am far from a physicist, but I do my best to explain the speed of light by moving my hands back and forth in front of my face as quickly as I can. You are unconvinced by this incoherent explanation, and now my arms are sore. So instead, what I say is that when I look at you, it’s like I am looking at my grandmother, a woman you never met but whose stardust is glimmering in your eyes. When I look at you, it’s like I am seeing everything that came before, all the people I love who once lived but who are no longer living, all of the history that has brought you here to me.
