“I have come as a light to shine in this dark world, so that all who put their trust in me will no longer remain in the dark.”— John 12.46 NLT
Don’t the raindrops look like little stars?” Tilly asked from the back seat.
“What?” Mommy turned her head slightly back in Tilly’s direction, but her eyes stayed forward toward the intersection. The light was still red. The car purred. The rain sprinkled. “Oh, no, honey. We can’t see the stars tonight because of the clouds,” Mommy replied.
Ting. Ting. Tuh ting.
“The raindrop stars, Mommy.”
“Oh yes, it is raining, isn’t it?” Mommy mechanically replied, eyes still trained on the stoplight.
Mommy’s eyes had changed. She used to see all kinds of things like raindrop stars. On one of their afternoon tea picnics last spring, Mommy had noticed something wonderful even before Tilly did.
“Tilly, look!” Mommy had beckoned her over. “Lay on your tummy, babygirl. Look closely at this flower here. It’s called gomphrena. Can you see it?”
Tilly flopped on her tummy and peered at the pink wildflower.
“See what, Mommy?” she whispered so as to not blow the flower too harshly with her breath.
Mommy got on her tummy too and whispered in reply, “The specks of yellow on the tips of each spiky petal. They look like little lights. Can you see?”
Tilly squinted her eyes and then gasped. “Oh yes, Mommy! I can see them! Oh, they are so bright! I bet they help the busy bees to find the flower.”
“I bet you’re right, baby.”
Tilly first noticed the change when she had to go to daycare for longer. Mommy used to drop her off at daycare when it was light outside and pick her up when it was still light right after nap time. But now, she dropped her off in the dark and picked her up in the dark. Tilly didn’t mind; she liked being with her friends at daycare, and they liked being with her. And now she got to see the real stars more often. Still, it would be nice if Mommy’s eyes changed back again.
Tilly leaned to her window as far as her five-point harness would allow. She pointed a plump little forefinger and squidged it up and down the cool window over the nearest drop. She knew the drop was outside and she couldn’t really touch it, but she wanted to feel the glass nonetheless. It was sparkly, after all.
“The raindrops have little stars inside of them,” Tilly said.
“Sit back, honey,” said Mommy, glancing quickly back and to the front again. “The light will turn green soon.”
Tilly lowered her finger and looked forward to the front of the car. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught. The windshield was covered in raindrops too. A universe of galactic star clusters sparkling with the ruby reflections of the stoplight’s sun.
The light turned green. The drops shone like emeralds.
“Oh, Mommy!” Tilly exclaimed, pointing forward. “Look!”
“Hang on, honey. We’re almost home.” Mommy turned on the windshield wipers, obliterating the universe with the touch of a button. The car lurched forward and through the intersection.
Tilly dropped her arm down to her harnessed lap. She looked back to the window beside her. The raindrops streaked in lines as the car pummeled down the street. The stars had vanished. But they weren’t gone. When they returned, she would show Mommy again. She would remind Mommy that the stars were still there. Mommy had simply forgotten to look for them.
As they approached the next intersection, the light turned red. The car slowed to a stop. Tilly reached to her window, spread her pudgy fingers wide across the cool glass, and waited.
She closed her eyes. Her body vibrated with the hum of the idling car. Her ears strained to hear over it.
Had the rain stopped? Had the stars given up?
And then she heard it.
Ting. Ting. Tuh ting.
“They’re back,” Tilly whispered.
She knew they would be.
“Mommy,” Tilly said, “can you open the top window, please?”
Mommy pushed the moonroof cover button. It buzzed as the car hummed. Tilly leaned her head back, tilted her chin up, and opened her eyes.
As the cover retracted, the car flooded with light. Galactic prisms shot golden beams down through the rain drops from the streetlamp overhead.
“Oh, wow!” Tilly gasped. “The stars, Mommy. Do you see them?”
“I see them, Tilly,” Mommy said.
The intersection light turned green. Mommy just stared at Tilly’s smiling face. She could see the sparkles of refracted light in Tilly’s eyes.
“I see the stars again.” Mommy smiled.
She remembered they were never really gone.
The featured image, “Alpine Strawberry Blossoms and Diamond Drops,” is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and is used with her glad permission for Cultivating.
Melody Trowell is a wife, mother, published children’s book author and poet, college professor, and amateur
gardener. She holds degrees in English and Linguistics and has taught middle school, high school, and college
English since 2004. During her time as a stay-at-home mom, she built a small business doing photography and
sewing children’s clothing and goods. She and her husband live in Texas with their three children in a little home
with big bookshelves and even bigger ideas. She has been writing stories and poetry since childhood and believes
language is one of God’s most beautiful gifts. Her desire is to show others how childlike faith and wonder lift the
veil between the spiritual and physical realms to help them see the evidence of Christ and His creation. Find her
online at www.melodytrowell.com.
This was so beautiful, Melody. What a beautiful reminder to keep noticing the wonder of our magical world.