Little Star

The ground against my back is cold and soft, covered in a blanket of grass. Looking up I can see the stars shining bright and clear. How I pity the people in the city, never being able to see the stars beyond the bright and flashing neon lights. I close my eyes and breathe in the smell of night and grass, struggling to breath deep. A cough sputters weakly out of my mouth, my lungs and abdomen burning at the action.

          The stars have always been my companions. For years they were the only true friends I had. Then I met my moon, my love. It was awkward and strange yet calming and comfortable; like lying on the ground gazing up at the stars. She was my moon, my light on my dark nights; the influence on the tides of my life. I could gaze upon her face and never be tired of her beauty. Then our little star arrived.

          She was small and fragile and yet so perfect. I was amazed at how such a little thing could have such complete control over me. The moment I first saw her, she had me wrapped around her little finger. I remember the first time I held her. She looked so tiny in my arms and I vowed to do everything I could to protect her from harm. She was light and warm and the most adorable baby I had ever seen.

          I remember desperately trying to rock her to sleep the day my wife died. It was like she knew something was wrong; that someone was missing. I cried with my little star that day and night. I remember crying because the love of my light was gone. Because our little star wouldn’t be able to know her mother as she grew up. That our daughter would never get to remember the calming smile of her mother’s face or the loving words whispered to her as she fell asleep.

          Love daddy. Those were her first words. I remember the day she spoke those words so clearly, like it had only happened the day before. I recall sitting on the couch tired and grading papers, I taught astronomy at the local college, while my daughter played with her toys on the floor in front of me. She was giggling and gurgling as any little one does when she looked up at me and smiled. “Love daddy!” she exclaimed with absolute joy before looking back down and continuing to play with her toys.

          Tears gathered in the corner of my eyes as I smiled down at her. “I love you to my little star.” I whispered as I watched her giggle and play. It was as if the worries about raising a little girl on my own, the stress of work, and the exhaustion of the day just…melted away. A comforting warmth and love settled into the very depths of my soul.

          I remember her first steps, wobbly and unstable. She walked forward towards me with her arms out to the side trying to maintain balance before she toppled over. She had walked four steps on her own and she was hell bent on trying again. I scooped her up in my arms, pride swelling within me, and swung her in a circle. We laughed together and went out for ice cream.

          She loves the stars as much as I do. The first time I ever took her stargazing with me in the backyard she was amazed at the vast number to tiny little lights in the sky. Her eyes sparkled as she took in every word I told her about different constellations, slowly tracing each one for her to see. She would beg me to let her star gaze almost every night after that one time. It became the thing we did together, our father-daughter tradition.

          When she got her first pet, a little dark spotted cat, she named her Cassiopeia after the constellation. Cassiopeia was a vain queen in Greek mythology. I could never figure out why the myth of Cassiopeia was my daughter’s favorite. She always had me tell the myth to her when she went to bed at night.

          I remember how sad she was when she learned that she couldn’t take Cassiopeia with her to her first day of school. She took that cat with her everywhere. I remember her sitting down with her cat and explaining to her that no, she couldn’t go to school with her and yes she would be back later that day. She waved goodbye as she left the house. I drove her to school with her chattering nervously in the back about how she hoped she could make friends at school and that some miracle would happen so she could bring Cassiopeia with her tomorrow.

          I can still see her excited and yet nervous smile as she waved goodbye to me before running into the building with her teacher waiting at the door. It so happened that her teacher was one of our neighbors. How fast she seems to be growing up, I thought at that moment. I remember worrying about her throughout the day, hoping she was doing well and that nothing was happening.

          I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I think back over the years. My little star has grown so much. I’m glad she is staying with her aunt in the city, even if she despises the hustle and bustle. At least I know she is well and safe. My heart aches because I know I’m going to miss her dance recital, I was looking forward to seeing it.

          As the cold night air blows across my skin I smile to myself. At least I got to see her grow for twelve years now. Twelve precious years with my little star. Watching and helping her grow. I know she is going to live long and happily, she is well loved by everyone around her. A tear slips out of the corner of my eye. I’m going to miss her first date, her graduating college, getting married, having kids, her first job interview. I am going to miss so much of her life and yet, I can see it in my head.

          As I lay here on the ground, slowly growing weaker and weaker, I wonder, do the stars see me from where they shine? Do they see my body lying among the cold damp grass with a pool of red steadily growing around me? Do they see the sorrow and the joy shining in my eyes as I think of my little girl? As I lose feeling in my limbs and my breathing become increasingly shallow I look up at the stars.

          How bright they shine tonight. I wonder if my little star is looking up at them and thinking of me. How she loved to watch them with me, always saying how lovely they looked. Each night she would whisper her secrets to them and they would listen. As my vision blurs and my body dies, I whisper quietly,

“The stars are… so… lovely…..”