star light, star bright
The stars are for wishing, they say.
The first star of the evening flickers and dances high above the rooftops, a distant spot of silver in the purple, velvet sky, and Vex, lying spread-eagled in their dirt-and-grass garden, brightens to see it.
“Mama!” she says, word round and soft in her mouth. “Star!”
“My, what sharp eyes you have,” Mother says, following the line of one pudgy finger to the spot of light. “Are you going to make a wish?”
Vex twists her head around to look at her mother. “A wish?” she asks, dust and leaves catching in her hair, and Elaina laughs and beckons her closer. Vex scrambles up to settle in her lap. She so rarely gets Mother all to herself, but Vax is in a mood today––that’s what Mother says, anyway, with a fond shake of her head––and has spent the evening sulking in their room. Vex thinks that’s rather silly of him, but Mother says boys are often silly like that, so Vex puts it out of mind.
“A wish,” she repeats with a nod. “You’re supposed to make a wish on the first star of the evening.”
“How come?” Vex asks, and Elaina laughs.
“I’m not sure, love,” she admits. “It’s something my mother taught me.”