> > Starlight, Star Bright > By Kelly Garnett > > When I was five years old, I took an extreme liking to > my sister's toys. It made little difference that I had a > trunk overflowing with dolls and toys of my own. Her "big > girl" treasures were much easier to break, and much more > appealing. Likewise, when I was ten and she was twelve, > the earrings and make-up that she was slowly being > permitted to experiment with held my attention, while my > former obsession with catching bugs seemed to be a distant > and fading memory. > It was a trend that continued year by year and, except > for a few bruises and threats of terrifying "haircuts" > while I was sleeping, one that my sister handled with > tolerance. My mother continually reminded her, as I > entered junior high wearing her new hair clips, that it was > actually a compliment to her sense of style. She told her, > as I started my first day of high school wearing her > clothes, that one day she would laugh and remind me of how > she was always the cooler of the two of us. > I had always thought that my sister had good taste, > but never more than when she started bringing home guys. I > had a constant parade of sixteen-year-old boys going > through my house, stuffing themselves with food in the > kitchen, or playing basketball on the driveway. > I had recently become very aware that boys, in fact, > weren't as "icky" as I had previously thought, and that > maybe their cooties weren't such a terrible thing to catch > after all. But the freshman guys who were my age, whom I > had spent months giggling over at football games with my > friends, suddenly seemed so young. They couldn't drive and > they didn't wear varsity jackets. My sister's friends were > tall, they were funny, and even though my sister was > persistent in getting rid of me quickly, they were always > nice to me as she pushed me out the door. > Every once in a while I would luck out, and they would > stop by when she wasn't home. One in particular would have > long conversations with me before leaving to do whatever > sixteen-year-old boys did (it was still a mystery to me). > He talked to me as he talked to everyone else, not like a > kid, not like his friends' little sister...and he always > hugged me good-bye before he left. > It wasn't surprising that before long I was positively > giddy about him. My friends told me I had no chance with a > junior. My sister looked concerned for my potentially > broken heart. But you can't help who it is that you fall > in love with, whether they are older or younger, taller or > shorter, completely opposite or just like you. Emotion ran > me over like a Mack truck when I was with him, and I knew > that it was too late to try to be sensible - I was in love. > It did not mean I didn't realize the possibility of > being rejected. I knew that I was taking a big chance with > my feelings and pride. If I didn't give him my heart there > was no possibility that he would break it...but there was > also no chance that he might not. > One night before he left, we sat on my front porch > talking and looking for stars as they became visible. He > looked at me quite seriously and asked me if I believed in > wishing on stars. Surprised, but just as serious, I told > him I had never tried. > "Well, then it's time you start," he said, and pointed > to the sky. "Pick one out and wish for whatever you want > the most." I looked and picked out the brightest star I > could find. I squeezed my eyes shut and with what felt > like an entire colony of butterflies in my stomach, I > wished for courage. I opened my eyes and saw him smiling > as he watched my tremendous wishing effort. He asked what > I had wished for, and when I replied, he looked puzzled. > "Courage? For what?" he questioned. > I took one last deep breath and replied, "To do this." > And I kissed him - all driver's-license-holding, varsity- > jacket-wearing, sixteen years of him. It was bravery I > didn't know I had, strength I owed completely to my heart, > which gave up on my mind and took over. > When I pulled back, I saw the astonished look in his > face, a look that turned into a smile and then laughter. > After searching for something to say for what seemed to me > like hours, he took my hand and said, "Well, I guess we're > lucky tonight. Both our wishes came true." > > «:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«^i^MISSI ^i^«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§« Richiele Marie [email protected] (Missi) I disbelieved in reincarnation in my last life, too. »§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«