To Wish upon a Shooting Star

THE STARS TWINKLE above us like tiny white lights on a Christmas tree. The clear night makes me want to touch the stars. I feel insignificant yet warm, safe and loved. “That’s the Big Dipper,” my grandma says, pointing out what looks like connect-the-dots. Suddenly, I see a bright light sailing toward the lake until it fizzles into nothing, like a match struck and then extinguished. “What’s your wish?” Grandma asks.

I wish this night could last forever.

Hours pass as quickly as the meteors fall like fireworks, illuminating the deep black sky. It’s as if they know exactly where to fall, on cue. The sky finally calms down. My eyelids begin to droop. I can feel how late it is. On Christmas morning that year, I find the tiniest jewelry box under Grandma’s tree. Inside is my first “real” necklace. The charm dangling from the chain is a crescent moon with a smiling face. The tiny diamond perched at the bottom looks like a falling star. Grandma winks at me because we know the secret.

KELLEEN AIRHART Cary, Illinois