The Star Grabber

The Star Grabber

Someday, you may find yourself flying high above the clouds—above the birds, and even past the moon. If you are ever in such a fortunate situation, be on the lookout for the Star Grabber.
 She is hard to spot. She rides in a cloak of moonlight that makes her almost—but not quite—invisible. She is tiny but mighty. Smaller than a grain of sand, yet she has a very important job. The Star Grabber has been around for a long, long time. If a bird dragged a scarf across the tallest mountain once every two hundred years, the amount of time it would take to wear down the mountain is how old the Star Grabber is.
 Before her, there was no light—only darkness.

The Star Grabber comes from Glimmeron, a place similar to Earth. It has rivers and valleys, cows and monkeys, and one big ocean, the Star Fall Sea.
 This ocean is unlike any on Earth. It is made of Stardust and starlight.
 Imagine swimming through an ocean of light and shimmer—that's what the Star Fall Sea is like. Swimming in it makes you feel like you’re gliding through soft feathers. That softness is Stardust dancing over your skin.
 When you're finished swimming, you don’t dry off. Instead, you shake like a wet dog, and the stardust and starlight fly off your body, do a little star-dance, and float gently back into the sea.

The Star Grabber once told me that starfish on Earth are pieces of stardust that got lost during their dance and ended up in our oceans. When they dance, they get dizzy and forget where they’re supposed to go.
 No one knows when the first piece of Stardust landed here, but according to her, they’re happy. There are many of them now, and they keep each other safe.
 In the early morning, the starfish sing to each other. You might hear their song if you listen very carefully at the sea's edge.
 And the starfish sing if you see little crabs pop out of their holes or mussels squirting up from the sand. Crabs and mussels can’t clap well, so that’s their way of applauding.

Once, when I was very sad, the Star Grabber came to me. I was sitting on my windowsill, hugging my knees and sobbing. Moonlight spilled across the floor, and the stars shimmered above.
 I cried a lot when I was young and often felt lonely—until I met her.

She came to me like a whisper in my ear. She sang:
 “You have a light, and it's going to be alright. The night is over, time to rest in the light.”

Suddenly, I felt warm inside. I heard the song again:
 “You have a light, and it’s gonna be alright.  The night is over, time to rest in the light.”

I wasn't scared anymore. It felt like a soft glow was rising from deep within me. And then it felt like light rain falling gently on my head and shoulders—but it wasn’t wet. It was more like sparkles drifting down.

She sat on the tip of my big toe and told me she was the Star Grabber.
 Curious, I asked, “What is a Star Grabber?”

I didn’t feel sad anymore. Her soft, gentle voice told me:
 “My job is to grab a little starlight and give it to people who are sad or lonely. Everyone has a light inside them, but sometimes it grows dim. I listen for cries in the wind, and when I hear one, I grab a bit of starlight and bring it to them.”

“If you’ve ever added wood to a dying fire,” she said, “that’s what starlight does. It helps your light burn brighter again.”

And with that, she whisked away on her moonlit cloak.

A few nights later, I was in bed when I heard her whisper again:
 “To keep the light, you have to share the light.”

She had come back! She was sitting on my favorite stuffed animal.

“I forgot to tell you,” she said, “To keep the light shining, you have to give some of it away. We give our light by being kind and friendly. When you see someone lonely or sad, do what I do—share your light. We keep it by giving it.”

That’s when she told me more about Glimmeron, the Star Fall Sea, and the stars themselves.
 She said the light and kindness we share keep the stars shining in the sky. Glimmeron needs starlight to survive.
 Just like Earth needs the sun, Glimmeron needs the stars.
 The more light we give, the more light there will be.

I never saw the Star Grabber again, but I know she rides the skies in her moonlit cloak, singing her song.
 I think of her when I look up at the stars, visit the beach, and listen to the starfish song.

And if you ever feel sad or lonely, remember this:
 “You have a little light, and it’s gonna be alright. The night is over, time to rest in the light.”