Mia sifted her fingers through the stars. Red ones, blue, turquoise, forest green, canary yellow, lavender, magenta, toffee brown. All the colors she could ever name including coal black and a pure white. Her thoughts tumbled to Perry Como’s song.
“Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away,” she quoted softly.
Stars were like wishes. Hard to reach and impossible to hold onto. Wishes changed and morphed into new wishes. Wishes that sounded silly or fantastic became serious and much more grounded the more one thought about them. You reasoned them out so that they would, or could, become possible to achieve. From ‘I wish there was never any dust, to I wish my dust rage would hold more.’ Definitely more sensible.
But while Mia’s wishes had become more pragmatic over time, she still had moments she wished for the impossible; or the fanciful. She would wish for the smell of violets in October or waking up to a batch of blueberry muffins hot from the oven. While one might think those sounded reasonable, she knew that violets never bloomed in October, and since it was just her, the only way there would be muffins in the morning was if she made them.
She’d long given up the juvenile wishes of magic wands, flying carpets, and dashing Prince Charmings riding up on a pure white charger, sweeping her off her feet into wedded bliss.
She hadn’t given up on love, per say, but she had stopped expecting that ‘wow’ moment to come along. If she was honest with herself, she still wished for Prince Charming. Oh, not the kind of hero from fairy tales who slew dragons. The kind of man who was almost too unreal. No, she wished for the Prince who cared about her, loved her, and had a healthy respect for her life. Someone who wasn’t out to change her, but would be her companion. Well, okay, good sex was wanted too, but she hoped that was a given.
Mia is my heroine from my ‘novel’, Bookends, a story that I started years ago. She owns a bookstore called, Bookends. I decided to play around with something and this is what came from it. I’ve started incorporating bits of thoughts into fiction, something I am not very good at. The stars are little origami wishing stars, or lucky stars. My mother and I make these by the dozens for fun, and we sell them too. There is something therapeutic about sifting your fingers through a bowl of them. (the link in the picture takes you to where someone else was selling them).
I hope you enjoy this bit of flash fiction.