All My Stars

Each night, I named them, counted them, called to them, reached for them. Each night I shuffled, because that's what I do now. I shuffle. I don't swan about or glide or stride. I shuffle back to my room. I share it with Sharon. I call her Sharon anyway, because we're sharing. I really don't care to know her name. It doesn't matter because she's a temporary presence in my life. She's going to join the stars, oh, probably pretty soon, I imagine. We all do eventually.

I'll shuffle from my room when she becomes a part of the stars, and I'll find her, count her, call to her, and look for a glimmer to know she's gone where she was meant to go. And then I'll wait for the next Sharon. At one time, I knew all their names, and then there were just so many. The staff noticed me leaving my room at night, and there was a time when Tiny (I didn't know her name either--why bother, everyone was transient) followed me outside to see what I was doing. She saw me standing in the dark, reaching to the sky, and saying over and over, "Sharon, Sharon, Sharon, Sharon, Sharon, Sharon, Sharon..." I must have been reaching and pointing and saying 'Sharon' for a good ten minutes.

Tiny thought there was something wrong with me. I mean she had to. I was old, and I knew how strange it looked, but it was necessary. They all had to be counted, recognized, and someone had to keep an accounting--something to show they mattered before they joined the stars. It was the only way, and I was the only one who could do it.

"Minnie, are you all right? Is there someone we should call?" I heard her say, and I heard her voice breaking just a little bit, but I couldn't stop because I was right in the middle of naming all my stars. If I stopped I'd have to start all over again. I held up a single finger to her, the official sign of 'give me another minute, please.'

When I finished I motioned her forward, and I pointed toward the heavens. "I come out here to count, name, and recognize all the stars. I find a new one every time someone passes. This is how I know they made it to the next place without any problems. Although, there have been times, where it took a few days for the star to appear in the sky."

"Why are you saying, 'sharing or share on' or what?" Tiny asked. She looked honestly interested, and let's face it, there were very few people who had the patience to listen to the race of time.

"Ah, Tiny. You caught me. I've become lazy. I don't bother knowing anyone's name anymore. I call everyone I've had as a roommate 'Sharon,' because it's nicer than, 'Woman I shared a room with who died, and I didn't bother to learn her name because I knew she was going to die, and why bother?' It's much easier for me, and why you're hearing me say her name so many times is because I've had so very many roommates since I've been here. I fear I may outlast every last person here, and my nightly visits will last the entire night, or at least until the sun rises and extinguishes all the stars until I can begin again the next night."

"But aren't you tired?" Tiny asked.

"Of course, I am. I'm 98 years old. I don't have that many more times to come out here to do my recognitions. Or maybe I have many, many more times to come out here." I paused. "You're the first person to be brave enough to ask me what I'm doing. I imagine they're all afraid of me or think I'm just crazy. But I find everyone I've loved or lived with or cared about up there, and I don't stop until I've found them all. And every night, I seem to manage to find them."

"Every night?" Tiny asked.

"Well, not strictly every night, Tiny. You know, sometimes we get weather, and I'm not able to to see into the sky like I can on a clear night. And then there are the nights that I know I need to stay inside because I'd catch my death in the cold." I laughed, maybe a little self-consciously. "I'm not crazy."

"Why do you keep calling me 'Tiny?'" she asked.

"I told you already. I don't have the energy to learn and remember everyone's names. I look at you and I think, 'She's tiny,' and then your name is Tiny. Simple as that."

"But I'm not Tiny," she said.

"But you were once," I said, "And that's what I remember. That's all I can remember. But I'll probably throw in, 'my brave, brave girl,' from now on, I imagine." We were quiet for a while.

I felt her hand clasping my shoulder. She wasn't Tiny anymore, and in a moment of clarity, I knew she didn't work here. I turned to her, resting my head on her shoulder. "Would you like me to show you where your daddy is, Christina?"

Her eyes became wet. She simply nodded, and I lifted my head, turning my body slightly to allow me to raise my hand and point to the sky, "There he is. My Robert. And there are my mama and daddy, and Uncle Lou, and Aunt Lena, and..." I trailed off.

"Do you want to go back inside, Mom?" Christina asked.

"I do," I said. "I'm ready. I'm tired." My brave, brave girl linked her arm in mine, and took me back to my room. I shuffled along next to her beautiful graceful gliding step. She helped me back into bed, and pulled the blanket up to my chin. She squatted next to the side of the bed. She stared at me, sadness, love, and worry etched into her expression.

"Thank you for sharing with me," Tiny said.

"Oh, Tiny. Come outside with me any time. I will always share all my stars," I said, and I could hear my voice fading into the place of sleep. "They're all mine."