The Constellations He Taught Me

Clara asks questions faster than I can answer them. One evening it was why the stars did not fall. Another evening it was how sailors found their way home before maps lived inside phones.

“The watch tells the time. The dial reminds me where to look.”

I brought out the old star atlas my father had used with me. We spread it across the garden table beneath the lemon tree and waited for the sky to darken. Clara traced the printed lines with one finger while I showed her how to begin with a shape she already knew.

The constellation dial on my ChronoAstra fascinated her. She moved my wrist beside the atlas, comparing one small sky with the larger one above us. Soon she had invented names for half the patterns.

I know she may forget the names I taught her. That is all right. What I hope she remembers is the habit of looking up — and that, whenever she had a question, I had time to sit beside her.