“Do you see her, littlest one?”
Great-grandfather pointed to a dim cluster of stars just above the eastern horizon.
I squinted, looked at the spot through my imagination’s eye, drew lines between the stars, but nothing, just the ephemeral starblanket.
I shook my head.
“She is dim because she is Shining Hope. When someone loses hope, she loses a shimmer of her glow.
“Will she disappear before I see her, Great-grandfather?”
“No, littlest one, because when someone looks to her, and hopes, a little glimmer will spark back.”
“And, if I always hope . . .”
“Then she will outshine the bluest moon.”
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Writing Prompt July 31st: We Are All Stars