When I was a child, little, Celeste would stay up late to help me guard the night, getting very little sleep, but still being the role model for me. She would wrap me in a blanket and quiz me on the constellations once I knew them by heart. I would identify the planets and the phase of the moon. We would watch meteor showers, always scheduled by astronomers. Usually, she would go to bed a little after our nightly talks, but she always stayed up for the meteor showers. She would tell me to wish on the shooting stars, even after my uncountable lectures on the truth of them. For some reason, I always did. Maybe I still held some part of my innocence with me, even after all I’d been through, maybe I still clung to my naive ways. Maybe I wanted to believe. Maybe I did it because I knew Celeste was, and I wanted to be just like her. I don’t know why, and I don’t know if I knew then, but I still wished on every burning rock I saw hurtling through our atmosphere.
One night, there was a large shower forecasted late into the night, and Celeste promised to stay up like always. We waited and waited, feeling lucky that the sky was so clear, and when the time came, nothing. We sat, still waiting. Nothing. I began to cry. Not just weep, full out blobbery, embarrassing tears. Celeste held me in her arms, rocking me as I stained her nightgown with tears and snot. She told me she’d tell me a story to make up for it. Celeste always told good stories. I shut up, only sobbing quietly, as she rocked me beneath the stars.
“Luna, you are a child of the night. You were born in the night, and of it. The night Mama had you I stayed up all night waiting. Waiting for my baby sister. The night to my day. Finally the nurse let me come into Mama’s room to see you, and she looked very tired and weak, but you were perfect and precious, and she was holding you like you were made of spun sugar and could fall apart any second. Right when I came in Mama handed you to me. She... trusted me with you, even though I was little. She sat and stared at me as I rocked you in my arms, singing little lullabies only a toddler could imagine. She finally gathered the strength, and she told me to always take care of you, and to not forget her words, and I don’t.”
“So?”
“So I will always take care of you, and sung you sweet lullabies, and be the Mama you never got to have. I’ll always love you, Luna, whatever happens, and I’ll always be there for you to hold you when you cry. Okay?”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too, Luna. I... love you. Goodnight.”
“Good morning.”
I still wish upon shooting stars.