Sarah pedaled her pink bicycle back and forth across the sidewalk in front of the house. Even though I had loosened her training wheels for the second time this week, she still balanced smoothly, giving a quick wave each time she rode passed. It was perfect bicycling weather: a cool, light southerly breeze complimented spring's setting sun with only a few clouds parading across the sky. The smell of heated asphalt and shaved grass transported me to the spring days I had spent exploring the streets and parks of Brooklyn with my father. I resisted the urge to fetch my bicycle from the garage and take Sarah on such a journey. She was still too young and the streets of New Jersey were not as accommodating as the streets of Brooklyn. I smiled at the thought and had to admit that the streets of Brooklyn weren't very accommodating either.

I watched as ants carrying newly cut bits of leaves marched around my feet, two stairs beneath where I sat, disappearing down the concrete staircase towards the flower garden. Sarah squeezed the black rubber horn and a duck cry greeted Mrs. Tinderly as she drove by slowly and carefully in her yellow family truck. It was almost time to go inside and start dinner. I watched Sarah ride by a few more times before getting up, wiping the backs of my shorts, and heading down the stairs. Sarah began pedaling faster, racing the last sunrays that peeked out from behind the neighbor's townhouse.

I walked down to the garage and entered the code to open it. "Sarah, it's time to put your bicycle away," I said.

Like most seven-year olds, she had learned to ignore certain requests and pedaled even faster. As she turned the bicycle around sharply at the end of the sidewalk, only the inside wobbling training wheel kept the bicycle upright. The determination on her face was comical. Her two braids, clipped with pink bow berets, whipped her neck in time with the fervent pumping of her legs. She sped past me as I stood waiting at the top of the driveway, and headed at chain-rattling speed for the end of the sidewalk.

I began running before I even saw the bicycle fall; she had gone into the turn too fast for the training wheel and as it tipped over her arms and legs became entangled with the pink and white bicycle frame. When I got there, the front wheel was still turning and without waiting to see my reaction, she cried. I separated Sarah from the bicycle and examined her. I wanted to yell, explain how had she stopped and gone into the garage or went slower or turned at a more conventional rate or never left my arms, she wouldn't have fallen. But I didn't. Except for a small scrape down her left leg, she was fine.

I faked a smile, knocked on her helmet, and asked her, "Did you hurt the sidewalk?" She was still sniffling and turned her face away from me to hide a smile. I carried her back to the house, dragging her bicycle by the handlebars.

After dinner, I went to the backyard feeling fifty pounds heavier. Stuffing filled my ears and nose and my sluggish body thought carefully before obeying each requested movement. I leaned the blue beach recliner back to the full-reclined position, and eased into the chair. Sarah followed me outside, still full of energy as only a child can have after eating a full meal.

"Turn off the porch lights, Sarah," I said. "Let's look at some stars."

She turned off the lights and flopped down next to me, her hand searching for and scratching the Mickey Mouse band-aid on her bare knee. She rested her head against my shoulder and stared into the sky with me. Off in the distance to the east, the lights of Manhattan created a starless area on the horizon, like a large bank of moonlit clouds. There was no moon this night, however, and the late evening clouds had mostly cleared.

I searched the sky for Ursa Major, squinting out the seven stars that formed the related asterism. I leaned over until I was at Sarah's eye level and pointed up to the sky. "There's Ursa Major," I said, "the Great Bear." Sarah nodded. She had seen this demonstration before. I drew the lines between the stars with my finger, showing her the head, three legs, and body of the bear.

"In ancient times," I began as Sarah snuggled closer, already anticipating the story, "even before bicycles, heroes and gods traveled the heavens and earth. One of the heroes was Callisto, a beautiful princess and the daughter of a mighty king who ruled the land of Arcadia.

"Callisto was more than just beautiful," I said. "She was also a skilled huntress, traveling over the weathered mountains and through the ancient forests of Arcadia in search of the most fearsome of beasts."

Sarah closed her eyes, squinting them together tightly. I felt more than heard a rumbling bass vibrating through the window of a neighbor's bedroom. I slowed the cadence of the story, falling into its rhythm.

"During a winter hunting trip, Callisto left her hunting party behind to stalk a queenly deer. She hid in a stand of trees and silently pulled back her knocked bow. Callisto slowed her breathing and felt the arrow's feathers rub across her cheek. Before she could release the arrow, a white clad woman walked up to the deer, laying her hand upon its back, she whispered into the deer's ear. The deer looked into the trees where Callisto was hiding, and turned and fled in the opposite direction.

"Callisto stood up, still holding the taut bow, and asked the white-clad woman what she thought she was doing. The woman replied, 'I know you are a great huntress, Callisto, for I am Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. But that deer you stalked was a friend of mine, and I could not let you take her.' Callisto lowered her bow and curtsied before Artemis.

"They talked for hours about hunting and Callisto's travels, and when night covered the day, Artemis asked Callisto to join her. Callisto was overjoyed at the offer, but before she could accept, Artemis said, 'There is one condition to my offer. If you travel with me, you must stay away from all men. They are dangerous creatures and corrupt the most innocent of women.'"

Sarah clapped enthusiastically. "Artemis sounds like a smart lady," she said. "You know, you can never be too careful around boys and their cooties."

I nodded in solemn agreement and continued, "Callisto accepted Artemis's condition and traveled with her. Artemis introduced Callisto to other lands and mystical creatures, which they hunted together. Callisto, who was very honorable and liked Artemis very much, followed her wishes and stayed away from men.

"Now Zeus, if you remember, was the king of the gods," I said. "He was powerful and had a great appetite for women."

"He ate them?" Sarah asked.

"Well, the really tasty ones, sometimes," I said with a smile, "but that's not what I was talking about. During his travels, Zeus encountered Callisto while she hunted a ferocious boar. Zeus was fascinated by Callisto's beauty and grace, and approached her. Callisto turned Zeus away, telling him that she served Artemis and could not talk to any man.

"Zeus was not only a powerful god, he was also a sneaky one," I said. "He left Callisto and returned a few months later. This time, before Zeus spoke to Callisto, he disguised himself as a woman."

"That's some disguise," Sarah said.

"Yes. Zeus was a very powerful god," I said. "And Callisto became good friends with the disguised Zeus. After some time, Zeus revealed his real identity to Callisto. While Callisto was surprised, by this time, she had become such good friends with Zeus that she couldn't give up the friendship. Zeus and Callisto stayed together and became lovers.

"A few months later," I said, "while Callisto and Artemis were hunting."

"What did they hunt?" Sarah asked.

"Bears," I said. "Callisto and Artemis were hunting great bears that could gobble little girls up in two bites." Sarah squealed and laughed. She leaned over and pretended to bite my arm and I obliged her by howling in pain. Sarah was delighted by this and continued to eat me up. After she leaned back in the chair, I continued.

"During the hunt, Callisto and Artemis killed a great bear. There was a lot of gore and blood on their hands and clothing, and Callisto and Artemis went to a nearby stream to wash up. While undressing, Artemis noticed that Callisto was pregnant."

"She had a big belly," Sarah said, knowingly.

"Exactly that. But Artemis knew that to become pregnant, Callisto must have been lovers with a man."

"Or a god!" Sarah said and smiled.

"Yes, or a god," I said. "Callisto admitted to Artemis that she was Zeus's lover. After hearing this, Artemis became very angry with Callisto and sent her away. Six months later, Callisto gave birth a beautiful son. She named him Arcas and the two of them lived together happily.

"But the story doesn't end there," I said. "Many years later, Artemis, who still held a grudge against Callisto, told Zeus's wife about their relationship. In a rage, Zeus's wife found Callisto and--because she, like her husband, had great power--transformed Callisto into a great bear. For years, Callisto wandered through the woods as a bear."

"Oh," Sarah said.

"Arcas," I said, "like his mother, grew up and became a skilled hunter. During one of his hunting trips, he encountered his mother in the form of a bear. But because bears do not talk, Callisto could not tell her son that the bear he hunted was his mother.

"Arcas, being a practiced hunter, pursued her through the forest. He eventually tracked her down and, using his hunting spear, stabbed her in the chest," I said. Sarah gasped.

"Artemis watched the hunt from the heavens and took pity on Callisto and decided to intervene. She sent a fierce whirlwind down to the earth and before Callisto died, she brought her to the heavens." I pointed back up to Ursa Major. "That's her," I said, "the Great Bear that watches over her son and the world."

We were both quiet after I finished. Sarah closed her left eye and traced the lines of the Great Bear with her tiny finger. A slight wind picked up and I felt Sarah shiver. The evening smells of mating bugs and baking earth mingled with the cooking smells of late dinners. The trees rattled from the wind, but the crickets were mercifully silent. The stars glittered and the sheen of the Milky Way peeked over the horizon.

"I was thinking about Zaida again," Sarah said. "I think about him a lot." Sarah stopped tracing the stars and looked up at me. "Which are his stars?"

I turned to her in surprise. Sarah had not known my father--he had died when I was very young. I had spoken about him to Sarah in the hopes of keeping his memory alive. "I am not sure, sweetie," I said as I stroked her unraveled hair.

Sarah sat quietly for a while longer as she chewed her bottom lip, looking back up at the sky. "You told me Zaida watches down over us, just like Callisto," Sarah said. "So which are his stars?"

I put my arm around Sarah's shoulders as she waited patiently for me to answer. My eyes were already damp; the thoughts of children were amazing. "Perhaps Zaida shares the same stars as Callisto. In that case, he's up there right now," I said, pointing at Ursa Major, "watching down over us."

Sarah considered this for a moment and nodded her head. "I'm hungry," she said. "May I have a yogurt?"