Fall’s here already. Huh, I thought, as I stared out my bedroom window. The sky was a pasty dull gray. I had always despised rainy days. The silvery sky felt unwelcoming, as if someone had placed a tarp over the world. Or, it was as if man had hidden under a tablecloth, and time moved slowly. Perhaps that is how trees live their life; forever unfeeling until the time comes to be chopped down. I’m someone who likes moving forward, and up. Sadly, up wasn’t an option today. Frustration began to pile up inside of me. I took out my sketchbook, hoping to calm my rising bitterness. Yet was to no avail. Pencil tips were broken, pages ripped out of the sketchbook, and the knot grew larger. Nothing was going right at all. Portraits unfinished, lines crooked, pen ink smeared all over. Half the pages were gone now. Why is it that it’s always the little things that wreck the big picture? One stroke of .3 millimeter pen in the wrong place could turn a bird into a potato. That’s life I suppose. A mistake could be tiny, but it can return to haunt you later. I proceeded to rip out another page, crumple, then throw it to who knows where.
The ball hit an empty jar, which was placidly resting on the far corner of my desk. It was a stout round jar, smooth on all sides. It’s purpose, I had long forgotten about it. I picked it up and absently turned it over, watching the reflections on the surface change colors like a prism. Pale turquoise to pale pink with speckles of green; it was quite pretty actually. It reminded me of something Grandma once told me years ago. She said to me with a twinkle in her eye, “If you fill a jar and fold 1000 stars, perhaps a wish will come true.”
“Uh… isn’t that the same thing as that paper crane story we read in school?”
“Indeed it is. But stars are different in that they are always there to guide us when we’re confused. And those 1000 will be your guidance rooted to the Earth with you.” I was impressed. I may not have understood half the words Gran-gran said, but at least it sounded pretty darn deep. “Whoa Grandma,” I said, “Is that really true?”
“Yes, yes it is. Oh and by the way dear you’re getting so fat, stop eating that American junk, eat more rice!” Well that’s Grandma for you. She firmly believed that any food other than rice would make someone morbidly obese.
Back in the present I remained sitting with the jar, when I picked up one of the paper balls, and a pair of scissors. What used to be rage filled ripping, turned to calming repetitive slices. Cut cut cut. I picked up the new thin paper strip, trying to remember everything Gran-Gran told me. “Tie the strip into a tight knot and pinch it on the sides. As I tied my paper knot the knot inside of me began to unravel. With Grandma’s voice echoing in my head, I pinched the sides of my soon-to-be star. Outward it pushed, beveling into 6 sharp points. It definitely wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. I dropped it into the jar; a new beginning. 999 stars to go. In the sky, the clouds seemed to part ever so slightly, with blue peeking out shyly behind.