A Star in My Hand
When laughter strikes a heart a beautiful tone, sings to another’s soul. When tears fall, the pain, the grief travels its journey, bowing the heads of all it encounters. Our words, our worlds connect. And for a brief time, my story becomes yours and yours mine.
Words transport us, perhaps to a place within, or a secret wish kept through time. A small reminder of a cherished memory or the defining second which changed a life.
How did you know how I felt? This was asked of me over and over.
How did I know? I can’t say how it happened or why the stories came. They unfolded within me, guided me through each short tale. The tone, in itself, laying the foundation for the words which came to the page. I carefully labored over each story, hoping to respect the journey being experienced or told to me. An honoring, however brief, to a moment in life.
The words were guided; they became a light within me. Once a story was formed it would not leave. It walked with me, settled into my dreams at night and woke me at an early hour until its words were placed on paper.
I joked one day with a friend, now departed from my life. I told her how my grandmother, who wandered a bit during her lifetime, always said she knew the direction she traveled by the North Star. I told her it was like a star was guided me, pointing in the right direction when I wrote.
She laughed and said, “like a star in your hand.”
“Yes,” I whispered back, those few words defining my work, my book.
And so it is, A Star in My Hand.