Star light, star bright,
shining far above me.
First star I see tonight
reminds me that you love me.
I wish I may, I wish I might
never lose sight of you,
have the wish I wish tonight:
that you know I love you.
I probably learned the first-star wish rhyme when I was around two years old, and have repeated it thousands of times since. Of course, I’ve learned a lot about stars through the years: that they don’t really make their own light, how explorers can navigate by them, what stories have been told about them, how very far away they are, what they are made of. Thanks be to God, none of this information has ever dimmed their splendor in my eyes. You may still find me standing out in my driveway by night, gazing skyward, that one wish burning in my heart.
I’m finding myself reflecting lately on the shimmering connections the stars illuminate for me: lines running back to my own far past, tracing the ties between myself and my children, reaching out into time beyond time. It’s not hard, at this point, to imagine myself reciting the words aloud with another generation of little ones, responding with a few lines of my own, out under the twinkling sky.
Becka Choat is a lifelong lover of words who spends many hours each week in a room of her own, writing or reading and drinking coffee. Her book reviews can be found at www.beckasbookreview.wordpress.com, and her poetry and other musings at www.beckachoat.wordpress.com. You may also follow @beckachoat and/or @booksbybecka on Twitter.
Featured image also by Becka Choat.