Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2016 | Page 22

Astrid Guevara My feet kick the dirt in front of me. Yes. I’m not blind. His eyes crinkle at my young promise of humor. Good. Good. Then just know that as long as you see those stars, I’m right next to you. My head nods. If it was true now, it always would be. He doesn’t hear me. I hadn’t spoken a word. We’re led back to the house. I skip over the cracks on the asphalt barely missing them. Jhonny laughs with me as we play a game only we know. My father smiles, his hands, always there to keep us from falling, so old and scarred, hands like none I’ll ever hold. I look up, once, at the stars, my name sake, and stop. He calls me by name, so my feet carry me forward and I follow, knowing full well I’ll be seeing the stars the whole way home. 10