They Had Stardust on Their Fingertips - Brenna Patzer Narrative

    I remember the 4th of July Parade. July, 1957. Red white and blue painted the scene around me. My children and I held sparklers like stardust as bands marched by and batons were twirled. My husband Steven stood on a float with other men, dressed and decorated in his uniform, looking as handsome as ever. It still makes me chuckle to think about how he winked and blew me a kiss. That sunny afternoon, I watched the summer breeze tussle his hair the way my fingers often did. I was pregnant with Elizabeth. Only two weeks. John was two at the time. He stood in the crowd with his siblings and I, but ran forward the minute he saw his daddy and saluted, smiling ear to ear. Katie was only four. She sat on my lap with a little American Flag in her tiny grip. Adeline, my oldest, was six. I was thirty years old. I only spent nine of them with Steven. I wish I could say the wave I gave my husband that day was only a temporary goodbye instead of a forever one.  However, as the mail came in only a few months later, I knew it wasn't that.

One thing I've always noticed is that Adeline has her Daddy's eyes. Not just the color; they have the same observant gleam. The gleam that captures each and every memory. Because of that gleam, she remembers. She remembers how Katie didn't want to go to the parade again the following year. She remembers how John saluted his father once more, only that time, at his funeral. And she remembers how her Mommy cried when she gave birth to her youngest daughter because Daddy wasn't there to hold her. She remembers. And I remember too.

    Five years later, my husband is no longer the brave soul on the float. He never got a "Welcome home Vietnam Veteran!" He's now a bastard in their eyes. Everyone in this day and age yells for "Peace Not War." The look scornfully upon my husband's memory. But I ask you... How can one find peace without a war to fight for it? You cannot. My Steven fought for what was right and what is still right to this day. They can't see it, but I can. Nonetheless, no matter how tall I stand, I feel their stares. They spit on me, they whisper behind my back, and even have the nerve to do the same to my children. But I will die a thousand deaths before I let my children believe their father was anything less than a hero.

    That is why I take them to Oceanside Bay every July 4th. We walk past the protests and the signs that tell of murderers of war and men of no sympathy. We walk and we walk until our feet ache and we can still see the fireworks without hearing the crowds. And we lay, and we listen, and we hear Steven's whispers in the waves. And just before they fall asleep, I give my children sparklers, just like the ones we had on that fateful day. And they laugh. They laugh like they did when their father would tickle their tummies or tell them a joke. And it's always perfect.

   But this year was different. This year was the first time Elizabeth was allowed to come with instead of staying with my mother. As I told you, she never met her father and therefore didn't know the reason for our sacred tradition, but was still smiling her toothy grin as always. So we marched as we did every other year through the taunts and the teasing, and we went to our safe place. And we laid down our blanket, and we lay and listen. Beth squirmed for the time we rested there, just as I had suspected, but still behaved herself enough for me to allow her to play with the sparklers. I took Steven's old cigarette matches out from my purse along with four sparklers. As the flame reached each wick, my children's eyes lit up almost as brightly as the sparks did. As I held the match over Elizabeth's , she looked up and said, "How come you don't light one Mommy?"
"Mommy's giving hers to you Bethy."
"Is that okay?"
"Yes sweetie that's very okay. Your daddy would always tell Katie and Addy to reach for the stars. So Mommy got you some stars of your own!"
"But what about your stars?"
I looked out at the gleaming orbs of light that were Steven and I's creations. They floated across the beach; giggles following them as they moved.
"You guys are my stars sweetie," I said as I twirled her untamed curls in my fingers and toyed with her hair bow. She smiled and ran off to join the others.

    After a few moments, I lay back down, ready to hear the love letters of my beloved within the water's currents, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. As quickly as she had gone, Little Beth had returned.
"Mommy that sparks keep falling on my arms and they sting!" As I looked into her watering eyes, I saw the same gleam that sparkled in Adeline's eyes. Steven's gleam. He was in each of them. As my own eyes began to water, I held her face in my hands and said, "Take it from me my love. Sometimes it hurts when we try to put light in dark places. But you must always remember, the beauty of light and love will always overcome pain and darkness." I kissed her arms and dried her tears. She quickly ran back to the others, and I lay back down. I looked up. There they were... stars. Too many to count. I thought about how Steven had always said to reach for them. I stretched out my arms and closed by eyes. The sounds of my children laughing and sparklers aflame surrounded me. And faintly... very faintly... I could've sworn I heard Steven within the tides telling me:
"I love you."

I opened my eyes and let the tears stream out. I smiled.
I wondered if Steven had reached the stars himself.