Mom crouches so that our eyes can meet, tucking a mischievous hair behind my ear. Then with a smile that reaches from her lips to her eyes she says, "See in the water, my love. Do you see the stars?"
I nod and grin, for there are purple stars upon the legs of the pier, each every bit as beautiful as those bright friends of the moon. "Yeah," I say, with arms as lively as waving sea-grass. "Are they fish? Fish all star shaped and pretty?"
My mother laughs, "They sure are; those are starfish, and they have those beams for support. It's their perfect home."
Upon the beach is a golden star, one that makes its own constellations on briny shores. Maisy giggles and asks if it grew right there as flowers grow in our garden. I smile, because in a funny way she's right, it did grow in much the same way. She see's flowers everywhere and I tease her that once she was a flower-fairy, that I found her in a meadow and raised her as my own. So, I say it is, it is a flower of the ocean, but one that can wiggle and move as much as a tickled Maisy. She gives me that look, that bottled up laughter in anticipation of the game that follows such promises...