Dreaming of stars
The house I grew up in had three stories. The first had a living room, a kitchen, a dining room and a bathroom. The second floor was where we slept. The Third held a telescope.
The telescope belonged to my father. He liked to watch the stars. We were only allowed to use it on nights with a full moon. My big brother bought us a calendar that had the moons cycle printed on each of the days and we would put a big red cross though each day until we were allowed to use the telescope.
On nights with a full moon we would climb the three sets of stairs and no one would speak. We would reach the top, the dusty, wooden floor boards would creak as we made our way to the window. My brother and I would stand and my father would set up the telescope, he was always so careful with it, he touched it like it was made of glass. As the years went by it took him longer, but my brother and I would always wait, quietly. Until he was ready, he would usher my bother forward with long calloused fingers. My brother would always go first. He would bring the eyepiece down to his level and peer through it. My father would stand behind him. His hands steady, helping my brother adjust the lens.
My brother never took very long after a few minutes he would step back and allow me to have my turn. My father would fetch the tiny, wooden stool from the corner of the room and lift me up by the sides to place me on top of it.
His large hands would cover mine and I would peer though the eyepiece. The moon would always shine back at me, Large, bright and clear. My father’s hands around mine warm and strong.
After a few minutes I would turn away from the big bright moon to my father big bright eyes. We would smile and he would lift me down.
My father would kiss us both on the forehead and send us both to bed. My brother and I would lie awake, dreaming of stars.
When my father died, my brother and I made a promise. We promised that we would continue to watch the stars. We promised that we would continue to search for those angels, continue to search for our mother.
