Cricket, cricket, cried the nighttime bugs. Swish, swish, cried the wind.
All joining in to play a perfect melody as the moon gave off its light and the stars twinkled like perfect diamonds on black silk.
"How far do you think the stars are from us?" 6 year old Johnny asked his older brother Wilson.
"I don't know. Pretty far, I guess." he replied.
"Do you think some day I'll get to go up there?" Then he paused, with a twinkle in his eyes and said, "And touch one?" Johnny's older brother chuckled to himself and rested his hand on Johnny's shoulder. Not wanting to sound discouraging, Wilson said,
"I think if you really wanted to, you could."
"Do you think that I will ever get to fly?" Then as if Wilson's heart melted before him, tears welded up in his eyes. Johnny's cancer hadn't gotten better, and Wilson knew it.
"Johnny, I think if you really wanted to, you could fly straight up to the moon."
"You really think so?" With heavy breath, Wilson replied,
"Yes, Johnny. I do."
Two weeks later, Johnny died. Memories of him flooded Wilson one late night. He was gazing at the stars. Then as if compelled to, Wilson silently prayed,
"God? Uh, hi. You know Johnny, right? My little brother? Well, not too long ago he told me a few things. I know he's up there with You now. I know he feels better. I wanted to ask You, if You could do something for me. You see, Johnny told me he wanted to fly. He wanted to touch the stars and fly to the moon. If it is possible, do you think you can take him? I know it sure would make him happy. Thanks, God."
Wilson sat there staring up at the moon, in the same spot him and Johnny sat. Silently he whispered,
"Sure bet you're up on the moon right now Johnny. Right now, with God at your side."
