\nI sharpened my hook against my whetstone and cast my line into the inky blackness.\n<\/p>\n
\nThree tries later, I hooked a star.\n<\/p>\n
\nI was a novice sky-caster and those slippery points of light liked eluding me. We seemed to have developed a relationship, though; if I practiced with good-natured patience, eventually the stars allowed me to catch them. Then I set them free.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe stars were drawing other casters, as well. Holding a slender casting pole, a boy the age of my young grandson approached me. \u201cYou\u2019re not very good at that,\u201d he said, with the innocent bluntness of youth.\n<\/p>\n
\nHis observation didn\u2019t bother me. It was accurate, after all! \u201cI\u2019m sure I\u2019ll get better, in time.\u201d I reeled in my line, accidentally tangling it again. The little star broke free from my hook and sailed back up into the sky. A pang went through my heart\u2014I would have enjoyed admiring its glimmer up close for a moment. How easily some things slipped away from us when we weren\u2019t ready to let them go.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt got away!\u201d A girl a little older than the boy joined us, holding a banged-up tackle box and gripping another pole. Her eyes seemed hungrier for the stars than the boy\u2019s. Some of us casters needed more wishes and dreams than others. I wondered what dreams she needed, and why.\n<\/p>\n
\nBut I only said, \u201cI\u2019m learning from the experience. I\u2019ll eventually figure it out.\u201d I finished untangling my line and cast again. Glorious stars lay strewn across tonight\u2019s meteor-filled sky, creating a double glory\u2014a sky begging for admiration.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHow can you be learning if you\u2019re doing it wrong?\u201d the girl asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI untangled the line, didn\u2019t I?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nSilence.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAren\u2019t you awfully old to just be learning now?\u201d The girl set down her tackle box next to me, opened it, and chose a hook. The boy rummaged through the box\u2019s contents and selected a hook, too.\n<\/p>\n
\nThey were brother and sister, I guessed. They had the same soulful eyes. I considered my answer to her question, since I was the oldest woman I\u2019d seen casting, so far. \u201cI don\u2019t think it\u2019s a matter of age. It\u2019s about caring about what you\u2019re doing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe girl studied her pole as if she hoped it would capture things far bigger and even finer than stars.\n<\/p>\n
\nA minute later, I caught another star, a tiny, graceful one that perched on the tip of my hook like a finely crafted diamond. \u201cBeautiful.\u201d I gently pulled it in\u2014no tangles this time\u2014and let it rest on my palm so my new companions could see it. We all admired its sparkle, and then I nudged it free of the hook. It flew back up into the sky with a brilliant arc of light, the kind that sends hope into your soul and makes you smile after a dark day.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou let it go already!\u201d the boy cried in dismay.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t keep it,\u201d I said, my curiosity rising about their method of sky-casting. But I didn\u2019t want to spoil our new friendship with too many questions. \u201cLook how brightly it shines up there. It wouldn\u2019t be content down here with me. In fact, it\u2019s light might go out.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBut it\u2019s gone\u2026.\u201d the boy murmured. \u201cNot everyone can see them when they\u2019re so far away\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe girl nudged him, and he stopped talking.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s all right,\u201d I said. \u201cWe all see differently.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe girl and boy looked at each other, as if swiftly judging me. Then, she said to me in a low voice, \u201cMama can\u2019t see the stars anymore. She says she\u2019s going blind. The stars used to make her so happy. Now, she can only see them when they\u2019re up real close. When she can hold them. So, we like bringing them home to her. Then she\u2019s happy\u2026for a little while.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI think I understand.\u201d A longtime friend of mine had also lost his sight, and he\u2019d loved the joy of the sky. \u201cThat\u2019s a very loving thing for you to do for her.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe girl glanced down at her tackle box. \u201cDoes their light really go out?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ve never kept a star for that long, but yes, I\u2019m told so.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDo you always let them go?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ve often wanted to keep them,\u201d I admitted, sensing the need to be a co-conspirator. \u201cIt\u2019s very tempting, but they\u2019d be lost without their sky. And if everyone took one\u2026.\u201d I didn\u2019t need to finish.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what mama says sometimes.\u201d The boy quietly wiped an eye, then gripped his pole. He tugged at his line, staring up at the sky\u2019s brilliant display. A meteor shot past us. A smile flickered over his face, like a ghost.\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\nI prepared to cast again into the bright-dark sky, wondering what would be best to say. These children needed something beyond pithy words of wisdom or well-intended encouragement. The girl solved the problem by asking, \u201cCan stars find their way back home, even if they\u2019ve been gone a while?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI would think so.\u201d I glanced at her. Her young face held hope, sadness, and a poignant longing that touched my heart. I guessed at what she wasn\u2019t saying. \u201cEvery one seems to find their own correct place, every time.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe two children whispered, a complex discussion with many tense pauses. \u201cWe should put them all back. Maybe they\u2019ll be okay,\u201d the girl murmured at last.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCan we keep just one?\u201d The boy\u2019s wistful disappointment was noticeable.\n<\/p>\n
\nA hesitation. \u201cNo. Their light shouldn\u2019t go out. Mama already feels that way.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOkay.\u201d He sighed.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe girl departed. After a time, she returned, bearing a second tackle box. This one was sturdy and heavy, although tiny points of light glimmered through thin cracks in the lid. She set the box down carefully, as if it contained something infinitely precious.\n<\/p>\n
\nI held my breath.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe heavy lid creaked open. Glimmers turned into a brilliant wash of light. Gleaming stars filled the box. Some twinkled, while others had lost a bit of their shine.\n<\/p>\n
\nNo wonder the children\u2019s decision had been so difficult. Considering their mother\u2019s circumstances, I\u2019d have probably taken stars home, too.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll miss them,\u201d the boy murmured. \u201cThey make my sadness go away.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBut only for a while.\u201d The girl\u2019s voice echoed his feelings.\n<\/p>\n
\nSoon, stars perched in little hands. With resolve, as if saying goodbye to close friends, the children gently tossed the bits of brightness back into the air. At first, the stars wobbled, then they straightened, and then\u2014as if gaining strength\u2014they flew up to the sky in luminous arcs to nestle among their companions.\n<\/p>\n
\nWith admiration, I watched the two determined youngsters return star after star to the sky, one by one, no matter how difficult it was for them. Soon, the box sat empty, but the sky twinkled with a little more glee, and a new, soft shine glowed in the dimmest stars.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLook,\u201d I said, proud of the children. \u201cThey\u2019re all shining brighter.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe girl gazed at the empty box. I quietly closed the lid for her. \u201cYou can still catch and bring them home for a visit.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMama would like that.\u201d The boy carefully cast his line, avoiding the area of returned stars. Soon, the girl\u2019s line sang out as well. Their two hooks were lost in the dazzle above, as all the stars rippled in a shimmering twinkle, just for us.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll catch one for you, too. Whenever your mother needs one,\u201d I promised. \u201cI\u2019ll do my best. I\u2019m often out here, practicing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe girl smiled, a little sparkle returning to her eyes, as if teasingly reminding me that I was still a beginner. \u201cTogether, we\u2019ll keep the stars bright for everyone.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI smiled back, sending my line sailing again into the eternity above. \u201cI think we\u2019re making a very fine start.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Sandra Siegienski is a speech pathologist in the Pacific Northwest. Her fiction has placed in the Willamette Writers Kay Snow Writing Contest, the PNWA Literary Contest, and the Romance Writers of America FF&P Contest, and it has received several honorable mentions from the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. She is currently writing multiple sci-fi\/ fantasy novels and short stories.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I sharpened my hook against my whetstone and cast my line into the inky blackness. Three tries later, I hooked a star. I was a novice sky-caster and those slippery points of light liked eluding me. We seemed to have developed a relationship, though; if I practiced with good-natured patience, eventually the stars allowed me …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107877,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14,20098],"tags":[20099],"class_list":["post-140117","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-publications","category-tcl-44-summer-2022","tag-the-colored-lens-44-summer-2022","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140117","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107877"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140117"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140117\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140118,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140117\/revisions\/140118"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140117"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140117"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140117"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}