She remembers the stars

"What's that cloud in the sky?"
"That's not a cloud, that's The Milky Way"
"What's that?"
"Well, you know what the sun is, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, The Milky Way is a whole bunch of suns. They're just so far away that they look like a big, milky cloud. In fact, a long time ago someone looked up up in the sky and thought that someone, some god, had spilled milk in the sky."
"Dad?"
"Mmm hmm?"
"Is that really what happened?"
"I don't know. Maybe."

"Wow"

She has a legal father now, not the one who abandoned her, but the one that adopted her when her mother got re-married. She has his name ... he is, and always has been, Dad.

And as she grows closer to the age of eighteen, any legal or societal duties I might be called upon to perform as her godfather become less and less.

She doesn't remember calling me Dad, but she remembers the stars.

I know. On a recent, all too brief visit ...

I caught her looking.

Wow

Always on the edge of our seats

Her version of our late nights was
sketchy
Though I remember every rustle of drape, every fingertip
the owls in the woods and the smell of magnolias

She tells people she remembers everything
I remember her expression
focused, with one hand pointing skyward

Always expectant and hopeful~~~
pointing

Over there

_{for Chras4, by request}