From the time I was a little girl, my dad would take me outside at night to teach me the constellations and show me the moon and planets through his telescope. I would have so much fun out there looking into the sky that I wouldn’t go inside until Mom called out and said it was time to go to bed—for the 3rd time.
James gave me this gorgeous telescope for Christmas. (In case you’re new to this blog, James is the best husband in the history of the universe, and spends all of his time making my dreams come true.) Star watching happens to be a passion we share, which makes it all the more exciting.
I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Right here in the home that I share with the man of my dreams, I have my books, my telescope, my piano, my KitchenAid mixer, my National Geographic subscription, my photos from trips overseas… really, I could go on. The little Connie Ann looking at the stars with her daddy would be absolutely THRILLED to know how her life turned out.
That little girl would have some questions, though—she’s a smarty pants, after all. She would ask why I didn’t become an archaeologist, or a singer, or a scientist. She wouldn’t mind at all if I told her that I’m a writer. In fact, she would be pretty excited about that too. She would want me to write books, though. She loved books. She still does.
Maybe I should invite that little girl to come visit, and listen to her talk about all the things she wants to do when she grows up. Maybe she knows what I should be doing now.
I’m sure I’ll see her soon, the next time I go out to look up at the stars.