70

When I was nine, I just couldn’t do it. But now that I’ve just turned ten, I stretched my arm up as far as I could, grabbed a pointy edge and pulled one down. I’ve got one! My own star!

People are confused and upset. It must have been an important star because everyone’s talking about how “The Dipper” doesn’t look like a dipper anymore—whatever that means.

Anyway, I’ve got this star in my pocket. When I first pulled it down, I was so excited, I wanted to show everybody. But nobody believed me so it stays in my pocket. I’ve become used to it, and most of the time I forget it’s there.

I’ve learned a few lessons. First, if you really challenge yourself and give yourself time, you never know what you can accomplish. Nine was too early, but at ten I could get the star. Good thing I kept at it.

Second, other people may not believe in you but it doesn’t matter. They can’t stop you and maybe they can’t even understand you. That’s okay.

Maybe most important, it’s the stretching that matters. That’s where the excitement is. The star is getting crumpled, the edges worn and the yellow is dimming. Time to reach for the next thing. Lately, I’ve been eyeing a whole galaxy. But it’s a lot further than a star. Maybe when I’m eleven.