In the small village of Aster, a little girl was just waking from her slumber. She stared at the ceiling above her and smiled as the golden light began streaming in through the curtains. Jumping out of her bed, she pulled the curtains away to bathe in the warmth of a glorious sunrise. The dawn was her quiet time, her time to be alone with her inner self… to connect with her inner thoughts… just like her grandfather had taught her. Her grandfather was a very old, very wise man who bestowed his knowledge to the village people as a counselor and a doctor. He had revealed to her the hidden treasures of life, teaching her to appreciate everything from the tiniest chirping grasshopper to the most stunning sunrise. So each day, she woke up, determined to make it the best day of her life, to savor each moment better than the last because every minute was a race against time. 

The little girl sat cross legged on the floor in front of her window and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths in and out. She stretched her arms and legs, imagining the butterflies taking flight in the meadow within the mind’s eye. She remained lying on the floor, imagining the meadow, breathing deeply until she heard a bustle coming from the kitchen. She checked the clock in the room and realized it had been an hour since the sun had risen. In a few minutes, she was dressed with a thick wool coat, ready for an adventure with her binoculars and her pouch stuffed with a magnifying glass and a chocolate bar. Strolling out to the kitchen, she gratefully received a steaming bowl of porridge topped with drizzles of corn syrup freshly made in town by the corn farmers. Blowing on each spoonful and gulping it down as fast as she could, it wasn’t long before the bowl was licked clean. “I’m going to Grandpapa’s, Mama! I’ll see you after my adventure!”

The little girl skipped down the flagstone walkway onto the public road, zipping up her coat to keep out the crisp autumn breeze. She passed the younger children, who were squatting on the sidewalk to play with the snails. She waved and flashed her signature dimpled smile at the bike boy as he pedaled down the lane. As if it was their tradition, the boy stopped and took out a small bun from the basket. It was still warm from the morning’s batch. The sweet smell lingered in the air when he lifted the napkin to let her take a whiff. After brief salutations and receiving squealing exclamations of gratitude, the boy pedaled on to deliver his family’s bread to the marketplace. Smiling at the treat, she stuffed the package into her pouch to share later with her grandpapa. She continued at a leisurely pace, walking through town and passing Center Square until she reached the foot of a slightly steep hill. Slowly but surely, she made it to the top, where a meadow of star lilies encompassed a small cottage that was already emitting steam out of the chimney at this hour of the morning. Running through the meadow with her arms outstretched, she yelled with all her might, “Grandpapa, I’m here!” Laughing as the spooked butterflies took flight into the clear skies, she reached the house just as the door burst open, revealing an old man with his arms outstretched. 

“Astraea! My dear dear Astraea, what a pleasant surprise for an old man like me to find his beautiful granddaughter coming up to visit him so bright and early in the morning. Come in, come in, I just brewed your favorite chamomile tea, sweetened with honey from the hives.”

“I brought us a treat Grandpapa, our favoritest treat in the entire world!”

“And what might that be?” The old man ushered his grandchild inside and plopped her on a chair at his wooden table. Grabbing a steaming teapot from the kitchen, he shakily poured two teacups of the beautiful, golden liquid and mixed in drizzles of fresh honey from the town hives. Setting down the cups, he sat in front of Astraea, and patiently waited for an answer with undivided attention. 

Without a word, she took out the package from her pouch and placed it delicately on the table. “Ellis gave me one of his mama’s fluffy milk buns!” She carefully removed the pastry from the crinkly paper bag and asked her grandpapa to cut it into halves. Insisting that he take the larger one, Astraea sank her tiny teeth into her portion of the golden bun, filled with freshly whipped milk cream that danced on her tongue. “What aw we gowen to do toway?” She asked, between mouthful bites of her dessert.

“Today, how about you choose? We will spend the day doing whatever you want to do.” He coughed into a napkin, wincing, but quickly recovered with a smile painted on his face. Astraea’s jaw dropped at the thought of spending a whole day with her grandpapa all to herself, doing whatever she wanted! It was a completely delightful surprise, considering the fact that they usually spent the day learning something new about the world. Not that she disliked her grandpapa’s lessons, they were so calming and interesting, and yet she was so excited to do something active for once. It had been ever so long since they had gone on a picnic and caught butterflies, but the day for all of those things had finally come! “Oh Grandpapa, may we go out to the little pond down the road and feed the ducks, and go for a picnic, and catch butterflies, and bake honey star fruit pie, and—”

“Slow down there my little one,” the old man chuckles. “We may do all that we can during this short day. But just know that we may not be able to do everything on your list, then you must not be disappointed and accept that all the things that needed to be done that day were completed.”

“Yes, I promise Grandpapa!  Now let’s go feed the ducks and have a picnic! We don’t have time to waste! We can get everything from Ellis’s mama’s bakery, let’s go, let’s go!” Astraea tugged at the worn hand of her grandfather, leathery and soft, tinted with the aroma of chamomile tea. She waited with a momentary display of patience as he gingerly heaved himself out of his chair and slowly walked toward the door. It was about half an hour before they reached the bakery, a distance so short it would’ve taken Astrea five minutes to prance over. But she didn’t notice, the only thing that mattered to her was that she got to spend the day with her grandpapa. After all, when would she get another chance to complete everything on her bucket list with him?

It was an hour before they arrived at the pond in the small park, littered with flower petals and tiny green leaves. The trees were barely beginning to bloom and a soft breeze blew, signaling the beginning of spring. They sat down on a blanket and Astraea pulled a small loaf of bread from the basket and skipped down to the pond where a small flock of ducks were leisurely floating atop the clear water. She slowly pried pieces off the hunk and tossed it to the smallest ones first, moving up the ranks until she had tossed the last piece to the biggest duck of them all. Then she ran over to where the old man was sitting and plopped down next to him. He took out a warm bottle of milk from the basket and two lemon, blueberry scones. 

While they ate, Astraea listened to the hum of the bees and the swishing of the flowers that danced in the breeze. There was no one else in the park, and when she saw her dear grandpapa shivering at the kiss of the light wind, she realized that a picnic in this weather may not have been the best idea. 

“Grandpapa, it’s too cold,” she lied. “Let’s go back up to your cottage and bake honey-star fruit pie. You head up first; if you can give me some coins, I’ll go buy the ingredients.” 

The old man readily agreed, and gathered up the supplies before dropping some coins into her hands. Watching as he packed up and walked out of the park, she slowly treaded behind him. Never had she felt that her grandpapa was slow before, never had she felt the burden of his age weighing him down. Trying to shake off the discomforting feelings, she trudged to the marketplace to get some starfruit and fresh butter before heading up the hill once more. 

Inside the house, warm with a fire roaring in the hearth, the color returned to the old man’s cheeks. He seemed to be as lively as ever, and Astraea forgot all about the incident before. They put on matching aprons and turned on some music, quickly getting to work. They chopped the star fruit into slices, and marinated it in their special honey mixture. They danced around the kitchen, plopping slices of the tart, star-shaped fruit into their mouths. They made the dough with flour, eggs, honey, butter, spice, and more. They ruled it out while humming a tune, setting aside a portion of the dough before layering the rest into the pan. Then they filled the pan with honeyed star fruit, and finally brought out the piece of dough they had set aside. Each cut out the letter of their first name and gently placed it in the middle, atop the starfruit. A & L, Astraea and Leo; they placed the pie into the oven and resumed their picnic in front of the fireplace. 

“Grandpapa, look at the clock. Making the pie has already taken up 2 hours of our day. We must make most of the time left today. What shall we do next?”

“I’ll leave that up to you my dear, is there nothing more, you wish to do?” 

“I think I’d like it better if we stayed inside today. Will you teach me to knit a scarf?”

“Of course, then we can have lunch and a slice of that pie when it’s done.” 

The rest of the day flew by for Astraea, eating, knitting, telling stories, and reading about the stars. Spending time with her grandpapa always made the hour hand sprint ‘round the clock as fast as a cow being chased by the shepherd dog. Soon it was time for the sun to set, and as it sunk over the horizon, the old man made a proposal. 

“What do you think of going out to look at the stars tonight?”

“Really,?”

“Really. I will let you use the telescope and you can try to find your constellation.”

“My constellation?”

“I will show you, let’s go out into the meadow shall we? Bring a blanket and a coat, it’s chilly out. I will bring the telescope.” 

They ventured to the back of the cottage to a little flat area where no stalks of grass grew. This was their stargazing platform, where the pair found constellations and connected the patterns of stars. Astraea set down the blanket and watched her grandpapa set up their tattered telescope. After a few minutes, he waved her over; looking through the lens, Astraea saw a cluster of the brightest stars she had ever seen. 

“That is Virgo, the constellation of Astraea, the maiden of the stars. She was the Greek goddess of innocence and purity.” 

Astraea sat back down in awe. “I’m named after a goddess?”

“Not just any goddess, my most favorite one of them all. She was the maiden of the stars, just like you. You have given me joy throughout these eight years, my dear Astraea, letting me share my love of astronomy with you. Tonight when you go home, you may take this telescope with you. So that you may never forget who you are, and what you’re made of.” 

  “Why are you telling me all of this now, grandpapa?” 

  “Because I have the chance.”

  The two took turns looking into the telescope, observing the sky, distinguishing stars from the planets and meteors. They quietly took in the beauty of the celestial bodies that governed the balance of the world, and the little girl realized that the last grains of sand were running out in the hourglass of Grandpapa’s life. 

  That night, the stars shone the brightest than they’ve ever shined before, and Astraea was not disappointed. 

  Under the midnight sky dotted with diamonds, the old man brought his grandchild home. Outside, he watched and waited for her to go to her room. When he saw, through the open window, her finally lay herself down to sleep, he quietly went up the path to his cottage on the hill but did not go inside. Instead, he went out to the stargazing platform, to the blanket still warm from the heat of Astraea’s small body. His bones creaked as he laid himself down and his breath rattled in his chest; for his last day on Earth, he had lived without regret. The final thing he saw before closing his eyes for the last time, was Astraea shining down at him, and he knew he would see his grandchild again. Someday, they would find each other in the heavens; it was already written in the pages of the universe. Virgo always sparkled next to Leo in the sky.