My dad always told me I could fly. He used to spread his arms out wide and tell me that one day I would touch the stars. Of course as a little girl I believed in the intricately spun fantasies he wove in my head. As I grew older I realized that what my dad said was possible was impossible, my childhood innocence had diminished as quickly as my father’s health. I took a step closer to the edge of the cliff, my foot sending small rocks and bits of dirt tumbling down into the dark ocean below. The night was filled with stars, their small light reflected in the ocean making it seem as if I was surrounded by them. It was a truly magical sight, but I wasn’t seeing it. My gaze was fixed on the moon, large and glowing, its face clearly illuminated. I looked into the eyes of the man on the moon and a sense of calm washed over me, the peaceful waves of the ocean crashing down below me.

When my dad was first diagnosed with brain cancer he used to assure me that when he died his spirit would leave this world and go live on the moon. He would look down on me, watching me until the day I touched the stars. His head was always up in the clouds, drifting far above reality. At the time I didn’t have the heart to tell him I would never touch the stars. Yet, here I was, standing at the top of a jagged cliff, looking out across the ocean at the moon, allowing the spirit of my father to fill me with hope and faith. I was finally ready to touch what I had once thought was untouchable. My bare feet were cold on top of the frozen grass. I wriggled my toes, feeling the dirt flow between them. I inched forward, my big toe dangling freely over the edge, the rest of my body soon to follow. Most people would be scared of death, but I wasn’t dying.

No, I was going to touch the stars. I took a step off the cliff, dangling in midair for a second before gravity took hold of my body and pulled me into her sweet embrace. My hair flew out behind my head, the air cascading around my body. I spread my arms and a smile spread freely across my face, I was flying. Dad had always told me that I could fly. I let loose a shout of joy, the stars looming closer and closer, I was going to do it. I was finally going to touch the stars.

My feet hit the water first, sending a jagged chill through my body, my smile widened as I began to fall beneath the surface of the ocean. I reached out and with a single finger touched a star, the water rippling under me. As my world darkened and the full weight of the ocean embraced me I looked once again to the moon, gazing happily at its smiling face. My dad told me that one day I would touch the stars.