Written in the Stars of Heaven

Melani- Age 6

“Mommy! Hurry!” I shouted in a rush, fiddling with the tight ballet bun my mother had secured on my head.

“Mel, sweetie, we have time. It’s alright!” she assured me before grabbing my purple winter coat from the rack by the door and kneeling to my height.

“I have to be there first, Mom. I have to stand out. To be the star!”

“I know, I know,” she murmured, gently pulling my arms through the sleeves and zipping me up. “I just don’t see why they would schedule your first ballet recital on Christmas day. What kind of blubbering idiot…” she trailed off, muttering to herself about the idiocy of expecting families to drop their holiday plans for a recital.

“I’m excited!” I chirped, looking forward to both my performance and the gift opening that would commence shortly afterward.

“I’m sure you are, sweetie. It’s gonna be fun. Now, your father and Kendyll should be there already, saving seats. I have the camera, the video recording thingy-ma-bobber, water, and snacks,” she thought aloud, ticking off each on her fingers.

“Can we go now?” I asked, impatiently pulling on her wool coattails.

“Yeah, Mel, I think we are safe to head out,” she smiled.

Taking her hand, I could barely contain my joy, skipping happily alongside her to our shiny, silver Lexus. I didn’t even protest as she insisted, like always, that I sit in my car seat in the back. I was practically bounding like a crazy person, humming to myself as we drove down the freeway toward the studio, where I would do my performance.

“Mommy,” I said sweetly, catching her shining eyes in the mirror, “You’re so pretty.”

It was true too. Her black hair was silky and glossy, curling slightly at the tips, bangs elegantly framing her oval face. Her skin was a few shades darker than my own, slightly golden, matching perfectly with her warm, brown eyes. The woman, in my young eyes, was a goddess. She was incapable of wrong, and was my own Heaven. I loved her more than life itself, and wanted nothing more than to grow up to be just like her. I even pretended sometimes, after sneaking into her closet and playing dress-up with her clothes, than I was her. Hell, I didn’t even know what she did as a job, but I pretended to go there everyday. She was my role model.

“Why thank you Melani! You are beautiful too, baby. I love you so much,” she gushed sincerely, pulling into the parking lot. “You ready?”

“Yes!” I squeaked, bouncing resumed as we parked. “This is gonna be great!”

And it was. I thought I performed so well that Russian ballet companies would be all over me by the time I grew up. Yeah, my six-year-old mind was a little… ambitious. But I truly did have a great time. Laughing with Dad and Kendyll, Mommy said that she was going to go pull the car up so we could take Dad and my twin to their car so they wouldn’t have to walk forever.

“Doesn’t that hurt your head?” Kendyll asked, back to the parking lot, pointing at my neat bun.

“A little. But it’s supposed to, silly. Beauty is pain.” Look what society had done to me. So vain at that age…

“Whatever. No one could pay me a hundred bucks to be in pain for hours!” he argued.

“Sure. You would eat a worm for ten!”

“So. That’s not as bad as having my face being pulled off,” he shot back.

“My face is not pulled off!”

“Now, now,” Dad piped in, “You two be good.”

“Is so! You look like an alien!” Kendyll shouted, ignoring our father.

“Take it back!” I ordered, shoving him.

“Never!” He shoved back.

We continued out little pushing match, paying no heed to Dad’s attempts to separate us. That is until I saw a huge green van pulling into the lot entirely too quickly for the snowy conditions. Everything from there on out played in slow-motion.

Hurrying across the slick pavement, my mom was heading for our car, not paying much attention. She didn’t seem to notice the speeding van, heading straight for her. But I did, and I let out a shrill scream the moment the cry of protesting brakes filled the air. The driver tried to stop, he really did. But it was just too icy, and he was moving too fast.

I thank God everyday that Kendyll’s gaze hadn’t left me during the whole ordeal, because I knew what it was like to live with the next image, and I would die if he had to.

Mom heard the screech of the brakes when they sounded, but it was too late. The van raced straight into her, sending her flying over the hood, over the top, and down to the cold ground. “MOMMY!” I screamed, terror coursing through my small countenance.

“Stay here,” my dad ordered us, rushing over to the scene of the accident. But it was no used. I knew that. I could tell by the lifeless way my sweet mom just laid there, unmoving.

Kendyll caught on seconds later, horror flashing through his brown eyes at the sight. “Melani…” he murmured for no real purpose. “Mel…” We both knew. And as the sirens replaced the shocked stillness permeating the air, a single tear slid down my flushed face.