A Little Piece of Real

As a kid, my dad often took me to our lakeside cabin - to show me the real world, he used to say. It was not something I enjoyed - I spent most of the time sulking and complaining about the lack of wi-fi.
At night, he insisted on bonfires.
“Look up,” he used to say.
“It’s just a little piece of sky,” I would respond.
My dad is long gone, our stars are next to invisible, and there’s more wi-fi than oxygen. I often look up at the empty, toxic sky and miss the real world we used to live in.