The Brightest Star

The Sun is said to be the brightest star in the universe. I know this isn’t true because of my Boppy. His smile was so infectious, he could have a whole room of strangers laughing within seconds of walking through a door. At family gatherings he was always the light of the party. I could have stared at him for hours, awestruck by the twinkle in his eyes. One memory I  specifically remember is going to Gaga’s house and baking snickerdoodle cookies with her. Boppy came home from work and took such a deep breath I thought his chest might explode. Boppy and Gaga shared such loving looks that even at the young age of seven, I aspired to have a relationship just like theirs. 

Gaga and I cooked together more times than I can count. I learned how to cook eggs before I could tie my shoe. Cooking was her passion and no one in the world loved to share that passion with her as much as Boppy. On numerous occasions, he ate whole batches of Gaga’s desserts in one sitting. He showed no shame in this, but rather laughed off a tease from a fellow coworker. Boppy was good like that. Able to shrug his shoulders to any situation, and pull on a smile at any time. Something I envy now. 

Just two weeks after my eighth birthday, the most unexpected happened. There was heavy rain that night. Beating, punishing anyone who decided to dare the outdoors. Boppy, never one to fear the elements, made his way home, of course after joking and jabbing with his fellow coworkers. Gaga got a call that night. Boppy had taken a turn too sharp, hit the brakes too late… The world lost its light after that, and so did Gaga. Weeks went by, then months, but she stayed the same. Boppy had been her world and Gaga his. They were two souls that were meant for each other. 

I had a baby brother born, Thomas. We still rarely saw Gaga smile. She dressed in dark colors and stayed in her house as much as possible. My mama tried her best to persuade Gaga to come to family events, or to even go on short outings with her. For every attempt she tried, Gaga spoke less and less. She would turn her face away from her own daughter, the pain too unbearable, the heartbreak too suffocating. Like an animal in a fight. Gaga retreated to lick her wounds. Perhaps she felt as though she would be betraying her love if she smiled without him. Perhaps she thought it easier to not have to face people without him. Whatever the reason, she continued in this fashion for many months. 

On a nice spring morning, close to a year after the accident, my mama decided it would be good for my brother and I to spend time with our Gaga. Whether it was for ourselves or for Gaga, my memory is foggy. We walked up the steps to her front door, Mama carrying Thomas in his carseat. I glanced at the large front window I had once traced shapes in the frost on, now closed with the heavy drapes. Mama reached to open the door without knocking to find that it was locked. She knocked three times, running out of patience with each pound of her fist. We heard a rustle on the other side of the door, and it was slowly pulled open. We came face to face with Gaga, but this was not the woman I had known before. Eyes downcast, shoulders hunched, I couldn’t recognize her. 

Mama led us inside and set Thomas and his carseat on the kitchen table. I climbed up onto a chair and looked at him. I heard Mama talking in a low voice to Gaga. She came over to me and said she would be back in a few hours. Gaga didn’t move from her position in the kitchen, the floor must have been very interesting. Mama had shut the door by now. I crawled from my post on the chair and went to hug Gaga. It had been forever since I had inhaled the sweet scent of flour that forever stained all of her blouses. But oddly enough, as I took my usual breath, there was no familiar smell. I leaned back and looked into Gaga’s eyes, portraying a smile but a visual despair within. 

This strange lady took my hand and we went over to Thomas. Of course he was oblivious to the whole world. Nothing but pure and innocent. Gaga and I played with him for a good while, until he started to cry and I complained of boredom. Gaga, still burdened with the sorrow of her husband’s passing,  struggled to keep a face for us. I remembered all of the fun times we had with cooking, and I decided to ask if we could make my favorite brownie recipe. “I could at least try to lighten Gaga’s mood,” I thought silently. But when I asked, she answered with a solemn, “No”. Nothing more, nothing less, but it was enough. She pulled out a box of premade cookies instead. Minutes turned into hours, hours to the brisk knocks at the door, summoning the day to an end. 

On the drive home, I saw a deer standing alone in a field. It was a simple sight, most especially to that of an eight year old. But as I looked closer I saw that a fawn came to join the deer. In that moment I decided something, if I could do anything I could help bring the joy back to Gaga’s life. She had to start cooking again. The following Saturday, I asked Mama if I could go to Gaga’s house. She seemed unsure and confused at first, but at my persistence she allowed me to go. I came with a goal in mind. I was going to make chocolate chip cookies with her. When I arrived I wasn’t surprised to find Gaga sitting on her little, outdated sofa in the living room. I crawled up next to her and cuddled her arm. She brushed the hair back from my face and asked how I was. We made small talk for a bit, until I had worked up the nerve to ask the question. 

“Gaga, can you teach me how to make your famous chocolate chip cookies?” I asked with the most innocent yet nonchalant face I could muster. She pulled me close and held my head to her shoulder. I felt her take a few deep breaths, knew she must be holding in tears as best she could though one did slip onto my cheek. She pulled me away and looked me straight in the eyes. Nodded. 

That next hour was like a turtle coming out of its shell. Slowly but surely. The end product was two messy girls, and some delicious cookies. That was the first time I had seen Gaga smile and laugh since Boppy had passed. When Mama came back to get me, Gaga answered the door with enthusiasm. She even started up a conversation, holding us back from our departure for a good fifteen minutes. Mama shot me several questioning glances. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to answer yet, I hadn’t had enough time to think over what had happened. As we went to leave I heard Gaga humming. I walked down the steps with a triumphant grin on my face. 

From then on Gaga returned to herself bit by bit, and through her I saw Boppy. The infectious smile, the twinkling in her eyes. She still had her days, but so does everyone else. Gaga had never cooked so much in her life, and it still amazes me to this day how she got rid of it all. Gaga has grown to be a role model to me. She is a beautiful example of the light returning. Find yourself and allow yourself to become the brightest star. Like Gaga.