Chark Tales That’s shark, with a ‘C’!

inspiration for this story provided by Fantacy Bryant

I thought with longing on the book of stars I had in my possession just this morning. My mom had reserved a copy and checked it out from the local library for me just over five days ago and for the past week, I had taken to carrying around the book everywhere I went, even to school. It was a great source of information, and had tons of pictures that allowed me to see the stars, even during the middle of the day. And at night, I loved looking up at the moon and stars when the sky was clear. Before I would go to bed, I would take my book, a flashlight and a blanket up to the roof of our apartment building. I would star gaze, and point and name the stars according to the constellations I had spent every day memorizing and learning. Sometimes I would ‘wish upon a star’ that I had someone just as interested in the stars as I was, to share the excitement and thrill of discovery. Unfortunately — as I sat there staring at nothing, my hands weighing heavily at my side and yet not heavily enough from the emptiness around them — the book was in high demand and would have to go back to the library sometime today. So I had asked Mom this morning over breakfast if we could maybe go to a bookstore and buy a copy for me to keep, and I could tell by the sadness on her face and the sigh that passed her lips that her answer was to be no.

Her voice was earnestly remorseful when she apologized, “I’m sorry, Case. We just don’t have the extra funds right now. We got paid only a few days ago and it has to go towards the bills and groceries. Ask me again in two weeks, hun. Alright?” She reached out and touched my cheek as she asked and as disappointed as I was, I knew she felt bad in telling me no, so I nodded and told her everything was okay. She worked hard to support the two of us and made it so that we had a decent place to live in a not-so-shabby part of town. I loved my mom and I knew the feeling was mutual, we were a solid family of two.

Sometimes though, I wished for things to be just a bit different. Better, I guess. Maybe richer. I wanted to live in a home where I could just look out my window as I lay in bed and see the entire progress the moon and stars made as they crossed the sky, and not have to worry about days when the light pollution from the city was too much and blocked my view of the stars. I didn’t want to have to go up to the roof to see the stars when the sky was clear, all because the other apartment buildings stood in the way of the sky from our second floor apartment. Still, watching the moon and stars at night filled me with a sense of awe and peacefulness and still seemed worthwhile to take the five flights of stairs upwards. No one took the elevator in our building unless they were desperately tired and didn’t have a fear of getting trapped. Afterwards, when I’d been able to sit outside for an hour, I would dream of someday flying up among them, reaching out and being able to touch them. I knew it wasn’t possible to touch a star, the book had taught me that much. Stars were like our very own sun and planets like Venus — big enough to put out and emit light that took years to travel to earth.

Mom took the book with her to work, as she would drop it off at the library during her lunch break. I stayed home and caught up on my homework. Spelling lists and definitions, United States social structure and geography — oh, joy — and mathematic equations of basic multiplication and division. Apples and oranges really aren’t that great for representing numbers in problem solving.

And all the while, I missed the book like an ache in my heart. But it wasn’t the book so much as what was in it. I wanted to touch and see the stars again, even if on paper. Since I had gone camping for the first time with a group of school friends up into the Appalachian mountains and had spent the night out underneath the stars, I felt an immediate connection to those bits of light dotting the canvas of the sky and with the bright clear moon arcing prominently through the dark expanse. I had come back home and told Mom all about what I had seen and how I wanted to be an astronomer. Maybe. I knew there were other occupations that were related in some way, but Mom said to not to worry about it too much for now, as I had time to learn and grow and find my way.

After fixing a sandwich for lunch and snacking on an apple and a juice box, I wiled away some hours channel surfing trying to find anything to watch. Saturday afternoons were not prime viewing time; not even PBS had anything educational to watch. Well, at least interesting and educational to a pre-teen. I don’t think anyone under the age of 20 could ever be interested in ‘Antiques Roadshow.’

As the time slowly crept towards the moment Mom would come home, I wandered around the apartment, picking up and putting down things I thought might capture my attention for more than a second. Only they couldn’t, as my mind constantly thought out what the sky would look like that night. Not much would have changed from the night before; the moon’s face would be slightly larger as it waxed across the sky and there may even possibly be a new star to appear or one disappear as a sun in someone else’s solar system or galaxy winked out of existence. Of course, such an event would have happened thousands of years ago as the light traveling from such a great distance would have finally stopped coming.

From the kitchen window, I watched Mom walk up the sidewalk with the sun shining down on her strawberry blond hair and her skirt swirling around her legs. In her right hand, she carried a white plastic grocery store bag. It was bulging at the seams and I assumed that she had stopped at the corner store for dinner on the way home.

I watched until she walked into the building entrance and then raced to open the door to our apartment and listen as her steps echoed up along the stairwell. Soon as she was on our floor, I walked out and pulled the bag she was carrying out of her hand. “I’ll help. Is this dinner for tonight?”

“Partially. There’s also some craft stuff in the bag. I went by the dollar store and picked up a few things. I saw this mobile at the library over in the children’s section and I thought we could work on a project this evening.” After setting the bag down on the kitchen counter next to the sink, I watched as Mom pulled out eight inch squares of brown cardboard, a skein of gray yarn, a twenty foot roll of tin foil, a small bottle of white acrylic paint, a set of black foam brushes and a cheap plastic cut-out template of stars and moons at different sizes and stages. Seeing that made my eyes brighten and I threw my arms around my Mom’s waist.

“OH Mom! Thank you.”

“Sweetie, I love you. I know how you love to look at the stars, especially at night. I know that these shapes are very basic and not really representative of what the stars look like, but since you can’t see the stars from your room, I figured this would be better than nothing. Especially if you like to see the stars as you fall off to sleep.”
Mom and I spent the next half hour preparing dinner together, like we do every weekend. It’s always comfort food for the both of us, as my Mom calls it. Food that comforts our souls and reminds of us of good times — of being safe and loved. She’s right about that. Homemade macaroni and cheese with salmon patties was definitely a food that brought good memories for me. I love to watch Mom cook. I know the skills that she’s teaching me now will do me some good later on down the road. “So you won’t starve to death when you’re living on your own. And not eating take out every day.” She tells me that every few months when she teaches me something new to accomplish in the kitchen.

After I help clear away the dishes and help dry the dishes while she washes, Mom asks me what I’d like to do next. “Do you want to watch some television first, then try making the moons and stars, or tackle our project first?”

Saturday night television wasn’t half bad, but I could always catch up on what I missed next week. Tonight was probably a series of re-runs anyway. So I told Mom we could spend all evening on the craft project if we wanted. The table was cleared of any remaining items and the craft bag was hauled out. Each item was placed just so on the table and I went to the junk draw in the kitchen to get out a pair of scissors and an our old, trusty X-acto knife.

With patience and much laughter as we labored over the table tracing and cutting out star and moon shapes, by the time I needed to get ready for bed we had created at least twenty stars of varying sizes and six moons at different stages. They had all been attached to different lengths of the gray yarn. I got ready for bed once we were done. I brushed my teeth and did the dreaded flossing.

And from the curtain rod while I prepared for bed, Mom hung the foil covered cardboard stars and cardboard moons so that they could dangle and sway with the breeze coming in through the open window. I couldn’t see the clear, bright moon from where my window faced, but the light it cast made the stars now hanging in my window glow. It was a wonderful sight to see, and my eyes slowly drifted shut to the sight before me as sleep and the wonderful dreams of flying in the nighttime sky drew me in. It was still alright for me to act my age and want things I can’t have. At least not have right away. And Mom whispered in my ear just before she left the room, “May you always wish upon a star, my dearest. No matter how old you become.”

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