A DREAM OF STARS
Michael loved his wife. And his wife, Rebecca, loved the stars. He remembered a time when she told him about all of the places she saw stars. Once, in Seattle while at a garden show convention, encased in granite, tiny little flecks that looked like stars. Droplets of water on sage in her special California Peach field where she loved to walk, sparkling in the sunshine. Reflections off of cars, or off of window shades heavy with warmth. She loved the stars. And he loved her. And their anniversary was approaching. So he arranged something special. The day of their anniversary, he brought in only the best and had a skylight put in their master bedroom. It was large, square, and took up half the ceiling. It would ground the sky, he knew. And one other thing. He found a supplier of granite, and bought a piece with tiny little flecks like stars. And on it he had engraved “Because I Love You.” He placed it on the bed, dressed for her return home from substitute teaching all day, and waited. And I came home, and I looked at the bed, quiet. The night was quiet, and Michael was quiet. And there were tears in my eyes. He kissed my shoulder, softly. “I love you.” And I turned and kissed him, my head up, the stars overhead…and love, it fell, star by star, into us. Onto the bed, the stars above us, we made love. Passionate, softly, holding, quiet, whispering…love. Love itself in the stars, love itself in the room, love itself breathing in the bodies of two beings so much in love that even Heaven couldn’t deny them. And later that night, I looked up, and a star fell. And I smiled. Every wish was right beside me. And I turned and touched him, gently. He was sleeping. And I imagined a star right where my fingers caressed. And I kissed it. “You’re the wish I’ll always love, my love.” And I hoped, as I lay back down, that he was dreaming of stars.
A Dream of Stars © Rebecca Tacosa Gray Sunday, August 24, 2008 10:19 a.m.
There are no threads for this page.
Be the first to start a new thread.