Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Not too loud, not too bright—
Just a friend to guide the night.

Page by page, the star became the girl’s quiet courage. When she stumbled, the star winked. When she hid, the star found her. By dawn, the book was finished—not perfect, but honest.

She illustrated it simply: deep indigo skies, a silver star that seemed to glow, and a small girl who gradually learned to shine back.

The first printed copy arrived on a Tuesday. She opened the box with trembling hands, ran her fingers over the glossy cover, and cried.

That night, she read it to her own child for the first time. And when she reached the last page—Up above the world so high, like a light in your own sky—her daughter whispered, “Read it again.”

And she did.