She and I sat on the porch, alone, on a clear autumn night during which the air was just beginning to freeze over with the taste of winter, although it was much too warm to snow. Her hands, such small hands, fiddled with tufts of my shirt as she lay on my lap while I turned my attention to the starry night above, where the heavens seemed to shine from their eternal spots in the darkness.      It was that time it struck me once more, as it always had, that she could not see. She had been blind since birth.      With a woe that tugged at my heart like heartbreak in a rainy day, I glanced down at her while she playfully fiddled with handfuls of my shirt, humming gently to herself. With a sad smile, I reached down and rested my hand atop her forehead; a movement that seemed to startle her for a moment, as she had suddenly flinched unexpectedly before relaxing upon realizing it was just me. She continued to play with my shirt.     “Daddy?” she asked, out of the blue. “What do stars look like?"   Her question made me pause. Never had I needed to describe something so lovely to somebody who had no other frame of reference. I looked down at her and pushed the bangs of her back, then smiled.     “Well, darling. Stars are pretty,” I began, weakly. My answer did not satisfy her at all.   “No, daddy. Please try. Are they bright, like the sun?” she murmured in the singsong voice children who are just learning how to speak often have. Her voice made me smile cheerfully as well, the way her Rs still sounded as if they were Ws. This wouldn’t last forever, it occurred to me, and I grinned at the thought.   I sighed before trying again. “Like the sun, you say? I guess… Stars are beautiful. Like mommy’s smile. Oh! Do you remember how chocolate tastes? Think of the sweet taste in the air, except that you can see it, and that it sits all across the night sky, shining like the sun, but not as bright as the sun…” I went on, unsure if she was satisfied.   She oohed.      “And occasionally, there would be the bitter taste of another, white star flashing somewhere over there,” I grabbed her hand and pointed it out at one of the stars I had known so well. One of those in the Virgo cluster.   “What about me, daddy? You said I was a star! Remember?” she cooed, fascinated with the scenes in her imagination that I painted with my words.   “You, my dear, are this star over here…” I remarked, moving her hand and allowing her to extend her finger out at the constellation of the Cancer, the constellation of the crab. “Did I tell you what it’s shaped like? It’s shaped like a crab. Probably because you’re so crabby and selfish,” I teased. She giggled sweetly and lightly slapped my hand away.   “Stop it!”   “Okay, okay,” I laughed, then ruffled her hair and looked back up at the sky and sighed as she nuzzled her head into my lap again.   “I love you, daddy..” she cooed, just as I heard her begin to fall asleep. As the silent sounds of her breathing began to fill the air of silence surrounding us.   I waited for a few minutes, then carried her back inside. 

(If you've any constructive criticism to offer, I'm willing to take it! It's my first post here, after all!)