Wishing Upon a Shooting Star
“When you wish on a shooting star, it will come true,” he used to tell me, tucking me into bed.
I never believed this. My books and teachers said they were nothing more than meteors passing in the sky.
“But how can rocks make wishes come true?” I would inquire.
“They are what connects all living creatures to the cosmos. A constant reminder that anything is possible, in the vast universe above.” His answer was always the same. “Now, sleep, and dream many dreams, and wish many wishes under the shooting stars tonight.”
Yet tonight, I find myself looking up at the starry sky, searching endlessly for a sign, any sign. My eyes follow after a light streaking across the sky, millions of miles from me. And for once in my life, I find myself wishing upon a star. This is the sign I was looking for. No. The sign I need right now. As I stand under the stars, his words flood back to me, and I finally realize what he believed so long ago.
They are the dreams and hopes of humanity. The bridge between reality and imagination. An orchestra of all the wishes that have ever been wished. And a hope for all the dreams that will ever be dreamt.
“Star light, star bright, please hear my wish tonight. I wish he were here, standing beside me.”