Photo: Jean-François Millet [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
When the night is so late that the wolves have stopped howling and the lambs can sleep, I like to wish on the stars that are farthest away, pinpricks as faded as last year's dreams.
Someday I will hold a star like that in my hands, and watch how it illuminates my family around me. My husband will glow as transparent as a dragonfly wing. My three year old will shimmer like sunlight on the lake. Maybe I will see the tea light flame of our new baby's heart fluttering deep in my womb.
I imagine that, just before the star floats away like a seed on the wind, in that fleeting glimpse, I won't have any worry. Everything will be peace as firm and soft as fleece.
For now, I only pull at my cloak and simply look at that far away star I will someday hold, believing with all my heart that in the depth of every night there are the warm lights of a trillion mornings we are just too far away to feel.
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