Author: Julie Zack

“Starlight, Starbright,
First star I see tonight,
Wish I may,
Wish I might,
Have this wish,
I wish tonight.”

Enid loved when her older sister, Tracy, spoke the words at bedtime.

“Do you remember the stars?” Enid asked.

“I do,” Tracy said, looking somehow both happy and sad. Enid couldn’t understand the sad part. She wished more than anything to see the stars.

“What were they like?”

Tracy sighed. It wasn’t a new question. Enid asked most nights. Usually, Tracy would tell the stories of constellations – myths living in the sky.

“Come on,” Tracy said. She grabbed a candle and fitted it in the lantern before taking Enid’s hand.

Tracy led Enid around the honeycomb pattern of rooms and narrow passageways. They cut through the Museum of Lost Objects — reminders of things that were once ordinary but held no value now. Enid marveled, not for the first time, at a bird feeder, something they used in the before to attract avians with seeds or nectar.

It was fantastical. The idea that people once had so much they left out food they didn’t need to bring birds who had no purpose. From what Tracy had said, they weren’t the large-breasted fowl that could make a meal, but common things that couldn’t feed a cat. Not that there were cats anymore.

They passed a bicycle and a hair dryer before exiting into a storeroom of lesser things. Tracy began to root around a disorganized pile, before coming up with a pad of multicolored paper.

“Construction paper,” she explained. “Kids used to make stuff with it.” Enid nodded, knowing there had been a time when children could be wasteful.

Tracy shuffled the pages until she found a black sheet. She chuckled and said, “you know, this could be the last piece of black construction paper in the world.” It didn’t sound funny to Enid. It frightened her.

Enid watched as Tracy pulled a pencil from her pocket and began delicately tracing lines and poking holes in the page. She was in awe of her much older sister, who had been born and not grown. After several minutes, Tracy looked up and smiled.

“Sit there,” Tracy commanded, “and close your eyes.”

Enid did as she was told.

“Now, open.”

Enid gasped. It was dark all around her, but she could see a pattern of glowing pinpricks in front of her eyes. She realized her sister was holding the construction paper in front of her, illuminated by the lamp.

“Do you see Ursa Major?”

It took Enid’s eyes a moment to focus as she searched. But there, she could see shapes in the light, and suddenly she made out the great bear.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“And what about Orion?”

Looking around, she saw the hunter with his shield.

“I see it!” She exclaimed. Her eyes were wet. The shapes were all over the page, filling her vision.

“Now,” Tracy said, “you’ve seen the stars.”