Starlight Filling the Room
Starlight filled the room.
Only the soft glow of the mood lamps left on for the children gently held back the dark.
I stared blankly up at the ceiling, following the wavering light.
“…….”
There were nights like this, when I was so exhausted I should have dropped off instantly, yet sleep refused to come. During Mass earlier I had nearly dozed off on my feet, but the moment I actually lay down, my eyes stayed stubbornly open. It felt bitterly unfair. Not that I was in any shape to get up and do anything useful, either.
I rolled onto my side and looked at the two brothers, each sprawled out in a way that somehow matched his personality. Alike, yet unmistakably different. How had these two ended up with me?
“…….”
Would Reni be all right, spending his first night in a strange place? Would he wake up startled and cry?
They said he had been terribly anxious for a long while, crying a lot. It was only natural. To a little boy, his parents had been the whole world, and then that world had shattered. He wouldn’t have understood what it meant that Daddy had gone to heaven, or why Mommy suddenly started sobbing and thrashing. The nun had told me he still sometimes woke crying in the middle of the night, calling for his parents.
…I hoped I wouldn’t fall into too deep a sleep, so that even the smallest sound would bring me fully awake and I could gather him up right away.
Watching the children, I blinked slowly, and little by little the darkness pulled me under.
I dreamed while still half-conscious.
I was little. Not long after I had first come to the group home.
Whenever the cold night wind made the old window frames creak like something out of a horror story, I would startle awake alone. In the dark, the other children under their white blankets looked like pale ghosts rising from their beds. They frightened me so much, and I missed Mom and Dad so much, that I would slip out of bed without a sound, ease the door open, and step into the hallway.
The stairs groaned under my feet all the way down to the first floor, where the furniture seemed to have turned into monsters that wanted to swallow me whole. I fled from that terrifying place as if running for my life.
The silent cathedral in the middle of the night was freezing and terrifying.
If I opened the front gate and stepped outside the grounds, endless roads stretched away on either side. I never knew which way led home, and the tears would come in a rush. No matter which road I chose, I was sure I would get lost. Thick fog waited at both ends.
Even so, I think I walked. At some point the memory simply stopped. When I came to myself in the morning, I was always back in my own bed.
It went on like that for a while. Every time I woke before dawn I would go outside, and every time I regained my senses I was back at the starting point.
Why always the starting point?
Was my heart still too young to push any farther into the dark? Or was my body simply too small to walk any farther? Did the priest find the missing child on the road each morning and carry him back to bed? Or had I never actually left my bed at all, and the whole thing had only been my imagination?
At some point I grew used to the nightmare of running and always ending up in the same place. And I think I finally understood that all of it was useless. No matter how hard I pushed through the fear and kept walking, I could never escape.
After that I never tried to go far again—whether the distance was physical or something inside me. I simply stayed where those people had left me, in a place I could never reach them, missing them so much it hurt.
I drifted for maybe an hour or two in that state that was neither fully asleep nor fully awake, until a rustling sound from Reni snapped me completely alert.
I cracked my eyes open and saw him sit bolt upright. He sat still for a moment, looking around, then quietly climbed down the little step stool, opened the door that stood slightly ajar, and went out into the living room.
He edged forward through the dark living room, stopped short, looked around again—and then simply sank to the floor, hugged his knees, and began to cry in a tiny voice.
I moved quietly over and sat down beside him. I stroked the small, tightly curled back with slow, gentle hands.
“Reni.”
When I called him softly, his shoulders shook and he started to cry out loud.
“Baby.”
I lifted him onto my lap. He threw his arms around my neck and sobbed even harder.
“Hwaaa… don’t know Daddy…”
“There, there.”
I patted his back and answered. What did he mean, he didn’t know Daddy? That he didn’t know me? That I was still a stranger?
He hiccupped and added,
“Forgot… don’t know Daddy…”
Ah. He meant he couldn’t remember his real father’s face.
After that he cried with his whole body, calling for Mommy and Daddy.
“Daddy, Daddyyy…! Mommyyy…!”
“…….”
I had been abandoned at ten. Not even that young, yet I couldn’t remember how it had happened. I was old enough to understand words, but I couldn’t recall my parents’ faces or even their names, so I never went looking for them. All that remained was a vague sense that people like that had once existed.
Not being able to remember your parents’ faces is a truly terrifying thing. And he was only four.
I held him tight and kept stroking his small body, soothing him.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby. You’ll see Mommy in a few days, and you’ll meet Daddy again later too.”
I didn’t know anything about heaven or hell. It wasn’t that I believed or didn’t believe; I simply had no interest. But right now, so that I wouldn’t be lying to the child, I had no choice but to believe with everything I had.
“It’s okay. You’ll meet Daddy again later.”
If faith could work miracles, then I wanted to believe it fiercely. That someday you will definitely meet again. That he is actually still right beside you even now. That one day you will all be together and happy once more.
In this moment I believed it desperately for him, hoping that faith would bring a miracle with it.
Morning came.
Reni seemed not to remember anything about the night before.
“Auwah!”
“No, it goes like this.”
“…Oo.”
After breakfast I watched the two brothers on the play mat, locked in a not-quite-argument over a toy puzzle, then finally stepped in.
“Kids, doesn’t this piece go here?”
With that I picked up a puzzle piece a little smaller than my palm and tried to fit it into the board. Or rather, I tried to.
The shape looked right, yet somehow it wouldn’t go in. A manufacturing defect?
“Why won’t this go in?”
“Daddy…”
Reni looked at me with a pitying expression, took the piece from my hand, and set it somewhere else entirely. Click—it slid home perfectly.
“…Ehh.”
Luca turned his head away as if thoroughly disappointed. Wait, why does it go there?
I stared at the model puzzle that made no sense by adult logic, but the children had already lost interest and wandered off to other toys.
“Kyaaa…!”
“Ahaha!”
I watched them play happily together, having abandoned their clueless dad, and felt a warm, foolish smile spread across my face. Yeah. As long as you’re having fun, that’s all that matters.
Figuring it was time I got some work done myself, I sat down at the sewing machine and spread out a wide piece of navy fabric. I had bought it in a burst of excitement when I first got the machine, along with all sorts of other cloth, but the color combination had always been tricky and I had hardly used it. For what I wanted to make now, though, it was perfect.
I planned to sew a canopy for Reni’s bed—big enough to drape over both boys’ mattress. I would cut little star-shaped holes all over the fabric and stitch the edges, then hang the Christmas lights I still had left over the top of the canopy.
The sewing machine whirred and clacked. The children glanced over for a moment, then went right back to playing with each other without a word. Having a brother really was the best.
“Daddy, we didn’t do water play today.”
“…Ah.”
At dinner Reni said it around an empty spoon.
“I’m sorry. Daddy got busy and completely forgot.”
Reni giggled.
“Mm. Daddy’s busy. It’s okay.”
“No, I’m still sorry. Tomorrow we’ll definitely do water play.”
“Okay!”
Tomorrow’s bath would just have to double as water play. With that thought I finished the meal, then hurried through the boys’ bedtime routine—teeth brushed, bathroom trips done, pajamas on—and lifted both sons onto the bed. Finally I stood in front of the bed loaded down with a mountain of pushpins, the string of lights, and the finished canopy.
“All right, shall we get started?”
I moved busily back and forth between ceiling and walls, hanging the Christmas lights and draping the canopy.
“Daddy, what are you doing?”
“Auwah?”
“Just wait a second.”
The two of them sat pressed close together, round eyes following me as I bustled around.
A little later, when their eyelids were already half-closed, I looked at the finished work and smiled with quiet pride.
“Just a second. Don’t fall asleep yet, kids.”
Normally Luca fought sleep like it was a personal enemy no matter how much I begged; why he was so obediently ready for bed tonight was a mystery.
“…Ungh-ah.”
Afraid they would simply drop off before they saw anything, I turned off the room light first.
Click.
“…Dark.”
“Ehh…”
I even switched off the mood lamp we always left on and closed the door. In the total darkness the children made bewildered little sounds.
“Reni. Count to three with Daddy and I’ll show you something amazing. Ready? One, two…”
“Three!”
“Eh!”
Reni counted without having any idea what was coming, and Luca chimed in with a determined little shout just because his big brother was doing it.
Click.
I turned on the Christmas lights. Suddenly the room felt as if it were filled with warm floating stars.
“Wow…!”
“Uwah!”
Their reaction was instant. I grinned, completely satisfied, watching their astonished faces.
“Stars!”
Reni’s already big eyes went even bigger as he pointed at the starlight pouring through the canopy. I was supposed to be putting them to sleep, yet their wide-awake wonder only made me prouder.
“Yeah. Twinkling stars, right?”
I switched the Christmas lights to the slow fade setting so they gently brightened and dimmed. The yellow stars punched into the canopy looked like they were slowly breathing in and out.
“Now it’s time to sleep with the stars. Let’s lie down and look at them.”
“Okay! Yes!”
Reni flopped onto his back, voice a little too loud with excitement. Luca was still craning his neck as far as it would go to stare up at the canopy, so I gently guided him down and settled his head.
Then I lay down too, head to head with the boys. The position was a little awkward, but I didn’t mind.
I watched Reni gazing up at the starlight with bright, shining eyes, then whispered,
“Reni. You know the stars don’t show during the day, but they’re always still there, right?”
“Mm.”
He probably didn’t really understand, but he answered bravely.
“Your daddy is the same. Even if you can’t see him right now, he’s always right there.”
Whether you’re safe, whether you’re happy, whether you’re healthy… your father is always looking down at you from the sky.
“…Really?”
“Of course. Absolutely. He knows how much you love him, and he believes you’ll have fun with your little brother. I believe that too.”
“…How does Daddy know all that?”
“Because every daddy who loves his child feels the same way.”
“…I knew it. God sent you so you know everything.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly it…
Instead of answering, I rolled onto my side and stroked his hair once. Then I gently patted his stomach and chest, coaxing him toward sleep.
May you have only good dreams tonight.