It’s still dark outside when I wake up, thousands of stars shimmering in a pitch black sky. I creep out of bed, careful not to wake anyone. I press my face to the window, staring out at the seemingly neverending sky before me.

I know it seems strange, but I do this every morning. I am eternally grateful for the stars, sky, and land around me, and I try to never take them for granted.

I have gazed out of this window everyday for as long as I can remember. Although it seems unnecessary to do this so often, you never know what will happen tomorrow. I could lose my sight or even worse, so it’s important to look out that window while I still can.

After standing there for a few minutes I climb down the wooden ladder leading to the floor below me, careful not to get a splinter. I attempt to sneak noiselessly into the kitchen, but the floorboard under my foot creaks loudly. “Caroline?” a small voice asks wearily. Darn.

My 6 year old sister Bridget steps out of the shadows, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “I’m sorry I woke you up Biddie, you can go back to bed now,” I whisper, kneeling on the ground while grasping her arms. “But I want to be with you, Caroline,” she whines loudly.

“Alright,” I sigh, giving up. I know that if I say no Bridget will only be louder, and I don’t want to wake anyone else. I take her small sweaty palm in my much larger one and together we walk into the kitchen.

I sit her down in a chair. After I’ve done that I remove the bread from its paper wrapping, retrieve the blackberry preserves from a cabinet, and grab a bread knife and a butter knife from a drawer. I place the loaf on top of the paper and cut off a slice. Then I twist off the lid to the preserves jar and spread a generous layer on the piece of bread.

I break off a small corner of the bread and give it to Bridget, who smiles at the gesture and then proceeds to gulp it down. I sit down on a chair across from her and sink my teeth into the nourishing food. I close my eyes for a second, relishing in the taste of the preserves.

Ma, Bridget, and I went out a few days ago to pick some fresh blackberries for the preserves. After that Ma used her special skills to transform the blackberries into delicious preserves and I jarred all of it.

We’re so lucky to have these preserves. Ma only makes them once a year in the summer and they always taste amazing. They're the perfect sweet treat.

I turn to Bridget, who doesn’t seem to understand this. “Biddie, you know how lucky we are to have these preserves, right?” I ask my little sister. She cocks her head to the side, confused. “How are we lucky?” she asks curiously.

“Well, it takes Ma a lot of time and effort to make these preserves, so be grateful that we get them every year. And we’re also lucky to even be able to make these preserves in the first place. We live near lots of fresh berries and we have enough money to buy the jars and different things,” I tell her patiently.

“That is lucky!” Bridget declares, grinning. Unfortunately, Bridget’s excited declaration was very loud. I can hear shuffling coming from Ma and Pa’s room as they’re awakened from their slumber.

I hear Pa groan and walk into the kitchen. “What are my two princesses doing up so early? You need your beauty sleep,” he says, yawning. “Pa!” Bridget yells, running into his arms.

“We don’t need our beauty sleep, we’re already beautiful!” she crows after a minute's pause, hugging him tight. Pa lets out a deep growly laugh. “You’re absolutely right princess, how could I have been so silly?” Bridget shrugs. “I don’t know.” Pa and I laugh together.

As Pa is sitting down at the head of the table, I can hear Ma’s dainty footsteps in the hallway. She enters the kitchen and smiles brightly at us. “Good morning, my darlings!” She kisses Bridget and me on the forehead, but when she goes over to kiss Pa’s forehead he pulls her into a sensuous kiss.

“Eww!” Bridget covers her eyes in disgust. Ma smiles gently at her. “You might think that sort of thing is gross now, but someday when you’re older you’ll realize it’s not, whether that means finding someone you love so much that you constantly want to kiss them or just growing up and gaining maturity.” She brushes Bridget’s hair with her hand.

Pa grins, pulling Ma onto his lap. “Well, I’ve definitely found someone I love so much that I constantly want to kiss.” Ma smiles bashfully. “Her name is Cynthia, and she lives down the road from us,” Pa says, looking at Ma. “Harold!” she cries, playfully slapping his arm.

I smile. This is one of the reasons why I love my family so much. They’re funny, kind, and caring, among numerous other things. You never know what each day will bring when you’re around them, but what you do know is that it’s bound to be good.