The Wishing Star
By Brenda Sinclair Sutton
December, 2005
(Listen to a podcast of this story)

Any kid born within ten days of Christmas, and especially kids who are born right on December 25th like me, will tell you that it's a hard holiday on which to share a birthday. School is out, so no class party. Birthday presents, if you get them at all, come wrapped in snowman and reindeer paper with red ribbons and green bows. But, more often than not, your birthday presents and your Christmas presents are — combined.

I was luckier than many Christmas kids. My Dad and Mom always tried extra hard to make my birthday separate and distinct from Christmas. They let me open one special present on Christmas Eve. My brothers and sisters all had to wait until I opened my birthday presents before they were allowed to start on Christmas presents.

The Christmas Eve of my fifth birthday changed how I view the cosmos. It started out great. I unwrapped the tiniest present I'd ever seen. A blue velvet box wrapped with black ribbon. Inside it lay a tiny crystal star on a slender silver strand. The pendant gleamed and glittered like the stars in the sky. It was the most beautiful thing, and I treasure it still.

I was about to go to bed, when Dad said, "Wait a minute, Kiddo. Put your coat on. Your real present is outside."

We both bundled up. He took my little hand in his big mittened paw, and we walked out back, away from the porch lights and streetlights, out into the field where it was really dark and still.

Dad had brought a thick blanket, and he spread it in the middle of the field. He laid down and looked up at the heavens. Me the mimic, I joined him. The cold from the frozen earth seeped up through the blanket, through our coats and our clothes. Dad taught me to relax the muscles of my neck so as not to shiver. Then his voice got very quiet and intense, but he was smiling when he said, "You're old enough now to pick yourself a Wishing Star."

"A wishing what?"

"A Wishing Star. Everyone needs a little help now and then. The stars have been around since the beginning of time, and they'll always be there when you need them." Then he explained how we're all just tiny specks on a great big world, that's really just a tiny speck whirling around the sun — that's really a tiny speck twirling around with millions of other galaxies.

"So," said Dad, "you have some important choices, l'il girl. You can either pick four different Wishing Stars — one in the winter, one in the spring, another in the summer and the fourth in the fall." And he showed me how to connect the sparkling dots making pictures of heroes and ladies and dragons and crowns in the night sky.

"But there are a few stars that are always in the night sky." Then Dad showed me the stars that make up the Big and Little Dipper, and how to line them up to figure out which way is north. "If you pick one of those stars to be your Wishing Star, you'll always be able to walk out of your house and find it in the sky, no matter the season. To my way of thinking, that's the more dependable way." Since my Dad knew everything there was to know about everything there is, I tended to agree with him.

"So, here's some guidelines for Wishing Stars," Dad explained. "Once you've picked your Wishing Star, don't tell anyone else which one is yours. You can make regular wishes for darned near anything, but the wishes made on a Wishing Star need to be for really important things. Not ‘I-wish-I-had-a-billion-nickels' kinds of wishes, because everybody wants a billion nickels, and there's only so many nickels to go around.

"Once you make your wish, don't tell anyone your Wish until it comes true. There's a power in a secret," he said. "And one other thing: Wishing Star wishes work best when they're wished for other people."

It turns out that my Dad had been Wishing for me since the day I was born. He Wished me fascinated with the world and the people who live in it. He Wished me happy and healthy and wise. He Wished me determined to learn how to spell "antidisestablishmentarianism," to pass my spelling tests, earn good grades and, later, go to college. And he also Wished me strength to claim ownership of my body during an age when girls just didn't consider that sort of thing.

Not long after Dad helped me pick out my Wishing Star, there came a time when I thought I needed to make an important Wish. My Granny was the center of our large, emotional family. She dominated the kitchen and the garden, filling our lives with stories and good food. But the year of my fifth birthday, Granny started moving slower, smiling less, holding her mouth tight and then relaxing with beads of sweat on her forehead. One day I came home from school to learn that Dad had taken Granny to the hospital. I didn't know about hospitals, but the way folks were talking, it couldn't be a good place.

A month went by and Granny came home for a few weeks, only to return to the hospital. She moved in and out, diminishing in energy and size with each trip. Finally she came home, and Dad said that Granny wouldn't be going back to the hospital. I thought that would be a good thing, and I didn't understand why my Mom was so sad, and why everyone tiptoed around talking in whispers. Kids hear more when grownups are trying to keep secrets. "Headstone...will...failing…" I got it.

That night Dad saw me put my coat on just before bedtime. He watched me pick up the thick old blanket. He followed me out to the field behind the house.

"What you up to, li'l girl?" he asked.

"I'm going to make my first Wish tonight," I told him, "for Granny." Then I looked up into a night sky so full of clouds. Swaths of gray cotton batting completely obscured both moon and stars. My face betrayed the important Wish in my heart, and I started to cry.

My Dad dried my tears and then he apologized to me. "I forgot to tell you one of the most important guidelines for Wishing Stars. Now, if you had decided on having four seasonal Wishing Stars, then you'd be out of luck on a cloudy night like this one. But you're lucky; you only have the one. If you can remember where that star was last night, then you only have to close your eyes, girl. Your Wishing Star is in the same place tonight."

So I closed my eyes to make my first really important Wish, but Dad kept on talking. And since, as I said, my Dad knew everything there was to know about everything, I kept on listening.

"One thing I ought to mention about really important Wishes," said Dad, "sooner or later everybody dies. You shouldn't Wish for someone to live longer than their time. But you can Wish that a person leaves this world happy and satisfied with the life they've lived. I wouldn't be telling you how to use your wishes, but I thought I ought to mention that. Don't be out here too long now. It's cold and you need to be off to bed soon."

Then he walked back into the house and left me to make my important Wish. It came true, so I'm free to say what it was. My Granny died with her family gathered all around and a smile on her face.

Wishing Stars are free for the choosing. Walk out on a clear, dark night and pick one.

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