Every night, before she went to bed, Laura looked out
of her window at the sky. Her mother, recognising the routine, would fall into
the pattern of their conversation.
“What are you looking for, darling?”
“My Compass Star.”
“Any luck tonight?”
“No. But it’s out there.”
“Turn out the light when you’re done looking. Sleep
well.”
“Night, Mom.”
When she was older, and Laura’s mother was no longer
around to put her to bed, her habit persisted. At university, no matter where
she was – or how raucous the party had been – she continued her study of the
skyscape. Her varsity boyfriend, Impatient Brian, who specialised in marketing,
tried to encourage her to study astronomy so that she would know what she was
seeing. Laura declined. There was Orion’s belt and the Southern Cross and the
rest was just a mystery – which was completely OK by her. When she found what
she was looking for, she’d know. It was that simple. Some nights, when she felt
like giving up, she’d see a glimmer of light and her heart would pound
expectantly, restoring her hope and her belief in the Compass Star. Perching on
the bed, planting her elbows on the sill and resting her chin on her palms,
Laura would find herself sighing. It always seemed so close and yet so far
away.
The man she married, Lovely Ben, found her search
quirky and gave her the time she needed to gaze at the sky before joining him
in the cocoon of their bed. During the late nights and early mornings of their
child-rearing days, Laura took comfort in the sparkles that dragged the earth
back to morning.
On their daughter’s fifth birthday, Laura was confronted with
a question she didn’t expect.
“Mummy?”
“Yes, love?”
“How do you know the Compass Star is in the sky?”
Laura looked up from where she was tidying the
kitchen. Her mind imploded, shattering the belief she’d held for
as long as she could remember. She walked around the counter, gathered her
daughter in her arms and sank into the couch.
“What do you mean, Lizzy?”
“You keep looking for it every night and you don’t
find it. Maybe it’s not out there.”
“It has to be, love. Where else could it be?”
Lizzy placed a hand on Laura’s chest, sure of her stance.
“In here, Mummy. The only place you didn’t look.”
With a touch of lips to Laura’s cheek, Lizzy slipped
off her lap, picked up her doll, Fairy Sarah, and went to her bedroom. Laura
could not bring herself to move or end the moment. From the kitchen window,
the night beckoned her, whispering promises that this would be the occasion
when she’d find her heart’s desire. But her enthusiasm was gone. Her daughter
was right. Everything she’d ever needed, ever looked for, she already had. It
suddenly seemed so obvious. She stood up, and walked down the passage to Lizzy’s
room. Lizzy was talking to Fairy Sarah about Cinderella, which she’d watched earlier.
“Must I go to sleep, Mummy?”
“Not yet.” Laura’s eyes brimmed. “I came to
tell you something.” She perched on the bed. “I think you were right about my
Compass Star.”
“Ok.”
“But I think I have finally found it. Right under my
nose.”
“Where?”
Laura stroked Lizzy’s cheek. “In you. You give my
life meaning. When I was a girl, looking for my star, I think I was
waiting to meet you. And I think that, one day, when you have a daughter, you’ll
find your star in her too.”
“Ok, Mummy.” Her brow wrinkled. “Fairy Sarah is
sleepy now, so we have to stop talking.”
“Yes, you’re right.” She kissed her temple. “Goodnight
Lizzy. Goodnight Fairy Sarah.” She turned on the nightlight, which cast
galaxies on the wall, and walked to the door. Laura watched Lizzy snuggle her
doll and whispered: “Goodnight, Compass Star.”
