Tonight the stars were shouting.
Normally stars sparkle. And they were—but they were sparkling very noisily. It was a bitterly cold, clear night in Anytown, and you could see more stars than usual.
I have a sneaking suspicion that the elements were in league tonight. The wind was pushing all the clouds out of the way so the stars could see. The moon was smiling as though she had a secret and nothing would pry it out of her. And the stars—I’ve never seen them sparkle quite like that before.
I was reminded of Peter Pan. There’s a part in the book when the Darling parents have put the Darling children to bed, and then they leave to go to a dinner party. The stars watch the parents as they go on their way, and when the time is right, every single one of them takes a deep breath, blows, and this great gust of starbreath blows open the nursery window. Then the smallest of all the stars shouts as loudly as it can, “Now, Peter!”
I imagine that the way the stars looked tonight was just the way they looked in that moment, when the stars were brave enough to speak. The Wendy in me looked up at them and tried to remember a time when she could understand just what those little sparkly devils were saying. They looked very urgent, as though there was something they were trying to say, but I couldn’t hear. As though they were shouting at me from behind soundproof glass.
All I could think of was that one time when they shouted at Peter. In my head, I heard a million starry voices calling “Now, Rizzy!”
“Now, what?” I shouted back.
But they only laughed.