There Was A Star

At one point, there was a boy.

He had learned to read more or less on his own, once he got his head wrapped around the concept of letters and numbers.

This was a fact that both amused and intimidated his kindergarten teacher, who had the strong conviction that five-year-olds should not necessarily ever need to know what a geothermal power plant was, nor to have filled up most of the carpet in the classroom with wooden toy block structures in an attempt to model one. It wasn't his fault that the books with the most words were heavy enough that they were on the bottom shelves of the family bookcases.

This is how, at five, he knew much more about the planets and constellations and stars than most kids his age. Not just the common "Big Dipper, Pole Star, Moon, Sun," what have you, but the Latin names for constellations, the Greek letters for the stars; magnitude and light-years and so on.

"Mommy, I was born in December right?"

"Yes, Andrew. You know that."

A moment of contemplation, "So that makes me a Capricorn right?"

"Yes. You are a Capricorn, just barely."

"Cooool."

Constellations were a tangible thing; the Zodiac an actual place. He knew there was a swath of night sky that held the stars of his birth, in a pretty little squished triangle shape. Couldn't quite figure out how it looked like a mergoat, but that's what the books said it represented, and who was he to argue with a book? It didn't matter. Those were his stars.

He loved the smell of book stores. New books, even and especially old books. One was a few blocks walk from his Grandma's house, and on summer shopping excursions into downtown with his mom, sometimes she would get off the bus a few stops early and let him browse. That's how he wound up with a copy of "The Stars: A New Way to See Them," by H. A. Rey.

"Grandma? This is Capricornus. That's my stars." Very serious, five or six years old, holding up the book to show his grandmother.

"Well of course they are, Andrew. That's where we're from."

Eyes wide. "We are?"

"Well of course, both of us."

Confusion. "But Grandma, you weren't born in December. You're not a Capricorn."

She laughed, smoke-scratchy oiled silk, "No, of course not, but that doesn't matter. It's our secret. It's not just our stars, there was a star in particular. You and I are both from Capricornus. And we used to know each other there."

Not sure if this is a game, or Grandma being silly, or some sort of truth that he was being blessed with. Definitely not a lie. Adults didn't lie. Disbelief in his voice, however. "Really, how did we know each other then? I'm a kid!"

More laughter, as she fumbled for her red vinyl cigarette case; fished out an unfiltered Pall Mall. "No, but we did, I just came to Earth first, so I could make sure everything would be ok for you to get here. And to do that I had to have your mommy. But then when everything was good -- poof, here you are! And that's why I'm so much older than you." A drag, blows smoke. "You just had to take longer to get here."

"Ohh." I mean, it made sense, kinda. "Why don't I remember it though?"

"Well, you do know those are your stars, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Well that's how you know. I only remember because here on Earth I grew up and remembered. You'll remember eventually maybe, if you're lucky, but since we were friends I guess it's ok if I told you that as a secret."

"A secret from who?"

Grandma shifted, rested back in her stuffed chair, tapped the cigarette into her brass ash tray on the round wood endtable. The table had legs ending in feet that looked like lion's paws. It fascinated him endlessly. "From anyone who doesn't need to know. Some things are hard for people to believe. It's a mystery."

"Ok Grandma, but can I tell mommy?"

"I mean, you can, but she'll just think it's a funny game."

He chewed at his cheek, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose. At least the stitches no longer hurt, from when the kid had pushed him at recess onto his face and had broken the lenses into the bridge of his nose. "I won't tell her. She might think it's weeeeeeeird." He laughed.

"Yes she would, baby. Just like she thinks the Box in the basement is weird. She doesn't believe in spirits like that."

Excitement. "The Box, you mean the one that says Isab--"

She waved her hand, little curlicues of smoke dancing. "Yes, that, but speaking of spirits, I want to give you a proof of how I know this is true." She takes his hand with her other hand, places it onto his chest. "What do you feel?"

"Me!"

"No, take your finger, and press... here." She demonstrated on herself. "Like this. Do you feel a little bump? Right there on the bone?"

He felt. He did. "I do!"

She nodded with satisfaction. "That's what connects your spirit to mine, and to Capricornus. That's how we know where we're from. Nobody else has that."

"Wow. You're smart. And you're right. I won't tell mommy. But I want to know more!"

She puts the cigarette out. "You'll remember a lot someday. But I suppose one more secret won't hurt. And you might think it's funny!"

"Yeaaah! What is it?"

She smiled, leaning in in the conspiratorial way only grandmothers could. "When we were on Capricornus, you were a woman."

---

The preceding writing, while written as a story... is one hundred percent a conversation I had with my grandmother, when I was five.

Diagram of H.A. Rey's alternative way to connect the stars of the Capricornus constellation.

Created: 25 April 2006 (original upload date)

Updated: 2008-04-16 01:38:00

License: CC-BY-SA-3.0

Usage terms:Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0

Credit: Transferred from en.wikipedia to Commons by BigrTex. | AugPi at English Wikipedia

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