Betelguese my friend

3 o clock. The wind is chill. I wish there was darkness outside. The street lights make the street look eerie as if it is a scene from a ghost movie.
I look at the little patch of sky visible from my balcony window.
My Betelguese. He catches my eye. I catch his twinkle.
He looks at me and complains. You have been missing for so many days, he says.
I smile. A happy smile acknowledging my offence.
Sorry. I say. I was busy. I missed you too.
You know Betel, I tell him, I have metamorphosed into a butterfly.
I know. I know. He says. You look so transformed.
He laughs merrily chuckling all along.
Ah! You are back with your old friends then? He asks mischievously.
Yes betel. I think you will understand. You have always been there for me. Remember, the lovely moments we shared when I would sit on the terrace water tank watching all you folks and chatting with you late into the night trying to remember the names of your friends and sharing my woes? I ask.
mmmmmm…….You were a squiggly caterpillar then, he says.
I smile in acceptance.
Thanks Betel. I appreciate your eternal presence.