The Blonde-haired, Blue-eyed Starfish
Everyone knows that starfish come in a variety of colors. There are red, green, and brown… there are even blue and yellow starfish. But there was only one blonde-haired, blue-eyed starfish, and one summer was a very exciting summer for that starfish.
One day, late in the summer, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed starfish was sitting in the shallow water at the very edge of the ocean. She had just finished telling her starfish friends how much she enjoyed the bright sunny day, just above the surface, when an extra bright sparkle caught her attention.
She looked closer and saw that it was the sparkle of bright blue eyes and the sparkle of shiny blonde hair. It was then that she heard the laughter of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl who was pointing at the starfish in the water. The sparkle of hair and eyes danced before her eyes, while the music of laughter sang in her ears. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed starfish knew that she had to see more, so, for the next week, she swam up and down the coast of Maine as she followed the blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl.
Sometimes she was walking along the shore, and sometimes she was swimming or paddling a canoe. Other times, she was farther from shore, riding in a car. But always, the sparkle of her blue eyes and blonde hair let the blue-eyed starfish know that she was near.
It was a wonderful time, and when, at last, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl went back home, far from the ocean, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed starfish knew that they both would have some very special memories to last the rest of their lives.
“The Blonde-haired, Blue-eyed Starfish” is the seventh of eight short stories in Blonde-haired, Blue-eyed Adventures, a collection of stories about my daughter’s adventures, written for her twenty years ago. What could be more special than finding a starfish while vacation on the shore s of Maine?
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Spud
The Tiny Princess
Blue and Blonde Sprinkles
Jenny Comes Home from School
Smiles in the Pumpkin Patch
The Happiest of Birthdays
The Blonde-haired, Blue-eyed Starfish
The New Blonde-haired, Blue-eyed Girl
~~~
Sweet Dreams
Ken Gierke
rivrvlogr 
Very cute and very sweet.
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Thank you. )
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Our earliest imprints are often the strongest and longest-lasting, eh? My Beloved Sandra is clearly also an Oceanist while I, clearly a hermit, am a confirmed cave-dwelling Forester.
These stories are magnetic works, KG. Wonderful work.
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Thank you so much, Ron.
We’re fortunate when we have another to complement.
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This brings out my inner little-girl associations … I guess little boys have ’em as well … making friends with critters, plants, stones encountered while exploring. (My inner adult still occasionally talks to stones.)
Cool that this is written from the starfish perspective.
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Thanks, Jazz.
Talking to stones – I can understand that.
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Very sweet. It sounds like a lovely summer and memory for both of you.
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Thank you, Merril.
It was a memorable trip to Bar Harbor. We had a cabin that sat nearly at the waters edge, with a campfire on the shore and we went canoeing in the bay.
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Summers at the shore are always special. I still remember my own. (K)
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🙂 I can only imagine the impression it makes on a child, as I was nearly 30 before I saw the ocean. However, we would go to the beaches of Lake Erie, and it may as well have been an ocean to me when I was her age.
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I remember those “beaches”–don’t go in the water! (I lived in and around Cleveland until I was 12)
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We went to a mile-long beach on the northeast edge of Lake Erie, Just into Canada from Buffalo. At that time (the mid to late fifties) cars were allowed on the sand, and it was a wonderful place.
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Not like Cleveland beaches at all…
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I love your images of your daughter and other art with the stories.
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Thank you. My hope was to use photos for every story, but time constraints and limited access to many originals made that difficult. But then, I chose to live 900 miles from the source.
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That sounds tough, Ken. Still, she has a treasure here. Not many girls have such gifts from their father.
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