“You must hold a silver goblet filled with diamonds to the sky, and let the light get caught in the blank jewels. Mash them into dust and weave them in clear water, to make a shawl,” Mama told me.

“You must reach up at noon to the sky filled with light. Close your eyes and let it fill your palm. Close your hand tight, the knots will untangle, then you must thread it, with sticks made of ruby, into a blanket,” Papa said.

“You must catch the sunlight at sunset, for it is unawares. Hold it in a fishers net and let it seep through. Catch it in a basin, filled with pearls to the brim, let it wind around the silken jewel, then, with chopsticks, sew it together to make a dress,” Sister whispered wisely.

“You must stand in an ancient forest, as it rises over the hill. Open your mouth and let it fill you. Watch it touch you, let it flow from your feet and explode from your fingers. Watch it caress every surface, but make sure to wear emeralds to lock it all inside, to make you always warm,” Moon connived in a dream.

So I stood in the forest, emeralds on my hands, with a silver goblet filled with diamonds, carried in a pearl basin. The ruby sticks were in my hair, shining with the light, and as the sun rose, it pooled around me, and catching it, I laughed. For then I knew the truth. Catching the sunlight was not hard, and sewing it was even easier, but keeping it tight and coiled, was going to take forever.