“You should be asleep.”
If the little girl heard her mother, she did not reply. The child stood on a stool reaching up to the window glass just too small to attain it. The apartment window, left ajar by her momma, allowed the night to pour in bathing her in the forever. The child’s nightgown shimmered in the moon’s silvered rays, a slight sea breeze playing with her milk-white hair, an ocean of starlight flickering in her wake. All was perfect in that stillest of nights.
“Didn’t you hear me, Celeste?
“I’m thinking, momma.”
“Midnight is not a time for small children to be thinking, it is time for sleeping.”
“I can’t help it, I’m worried.”
“Why?” asked her mother, her face washing from frown to concern.
“I’m scared I shall never see it again.”
“That is what the boats are for.”
“For what?” Celeste replied.
“To take you there in your dreams, when the night is darkest.”
“Yes, that is why poppa and I made this our home, so you should never have to feel afraid.”
“But if the moon disappears, then how will I find it again?”
“It will not,” breathed her momma. “You will never lose the moon or stars, or any of the magical things of the night. Not for a very long time, anyway, and even then, maybe never,” she smiled and picked her daughter up in her arms.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I was like you once, dear Celeste. Poppa and I named you after the heavens to remind us to never lose track of such things. Your name means heavenly, you see.”
“Does that mean that you are magic, too?”
“Yes, when we are with you.”
“Then, please never leave,” she said with a yawn.
“That is the thing with heaven it is always at the end of your fingertips.”
“Yes,” said Celeste, as she clung to her momma’s, smiled, and closed her eyes.