A week before her birthday, itâs a warm summerâs day. A little girl is standing in the sun, her head tilted skyward.  Her eyes are closed. She imagines breathing in the sunlight itself, sucking it directly into her brain through her nostrils. Like the honey colored power of a god in the pantheon worshiped by the ancient Egyptians. History is her favorite subject, ancient history to be precise. The sun bright and hot on her face, she dares to open her eyes. The brightness forces her to sneeze, losing her imagined new found ancient power. She is just about to turn five.
  âGodblessyouâŠand cover your mouthâ Says her mother who is sitting on stoop steps in front of a yellow trailer. âIâm hungryâ says the little girl. âWe have to wait until the landlord gets here with the key.â Says the mother, from behind huge sunglasses, a floppy hat and her palm held up to block out the July sun. âI have some goldfish crackers left if you want emâ the mother offers, holding a small bag. âOkâ says the little girl without much enthusiasm and she reaches for the bag containing a fistful or so of tiny goldfishy shaped cheese crackers. Her mother holds on to the bag. âIf you donât wantemâŠâ the little girl smiles at her mother and says, âplease?â  The mother lets go. âOk thenâ she says and the little girl turns and spins in the sun, munching tiny goldfishies, she spins.
 Dizzy and out of fish, she bumps into a mossy cement bird bath hard, scraping her arm and elbow. Itâs not that bad but she cries out anyway. The little girlâs mother, tired from the heat and waiting on these 3 concrete steps for that goddamned landlord, lazily looks up at her daughter and says, âSee what happens?â âYou spin too much, you get dizzy and you hurt yourself.â The mother softens at her daughterâs tears, which are few but enough to warrant a deliberate change in mood. âCome ere baby.â The mother says, and the little girl, still dizzy, pouts over to her mom. Sweat mixed with the smell of blood is making the little girl a bit queasy.
 âLemme see it.â The mother instructs. Silently, the girl shows her mom the scrapes and blossoming bruise. Mother takes off her bug-eyed sunglasses for a proper look. âAw itâs not that bad, youâll be fine.â She says to her daughter. âPromise?â the little girl asks. âPromiseâ her mother answers, and gives the smaller scrape a brief kiss which makes the daughter wince as it stings.
 Smiling at the little girl, the mother is quite young herself. She is still a believer in the hopes and dreams that save that last bit of us in dark times because, âeverything will be ok, it will get better.â
 The young motherâs bright blue eyes search out tiny tears. She wipes them from beneath the little girlâs watery hazels. âItâll be ok honey. When the landlord gets here with the key, weâll just leave everything in the car and Iâll take you to McDonalds. Its quarter burger day yâknowâŠâ she babbles to make the little girl feel better.  And the little girl does feel a bit better. McDonalds is a strong bribery tool to a child in the 1970âs. But it comes at a price. When you are promised McDonalds you become even hungrier and time seems to drag at an obscenely slow pace.
 Without missing a beat, the mother opts to distract them both from the heat and the waiting. She is tracking something in the air with her gaze. âDo you know what that is?â she asks her daughter. âWhat?â the little girl answers. âThat puff ball floating right thereâŠdo you see it?â says the mother. She is pointing and gesticulating as if to say, âthereâ and âroundâ and âfloating.â The little girl finally sees what her mother is talking about. It is a puff ball. Like a dandelion but a neat little ball of fur instead of a parachute.
  âHey I see it! â the daughter exclaims.
âCan you catch it?â the young mother asks. âYeahâ the child answers, and she bounds after the floaty puffy thing. It takes the little girl less than a minute to capture her prize. âOk now bring it here, this is very important.â says her mother in a very soft, but authoritative tone. âDonât hold it too tight, but donât let it fly away either.â The daughter does as she is told. She doesnât know just why exactly, she knows it isnât alive, but still, she feels a strange need to protect it. She doesnât want it to get hurt. Â âIf you hold it too tight, itâll get all sweaty and it wonât be able to fly.â Says the mother, and the child responds by nodding and lessening her grip. Â
 The little girl holds out her tiny fist to her mother as if to say âhere, take this.â The mother reaches out and holds the little girlâs hand with both of hers. Looking into her daughterâs eyes, and to the tiny fist, she pauses and says, âWhat you have in your hand right now is a wishing seed.â  The girl looked at her hand and unconsciously starts moving fingers from her fist. Mother almost shouts, âNo! donât let it go you havenât wished for anything yet!â
The little girl stops and the mother continues. âYou have to make a wish, I mean; you get to if you catch one. And just like any wish youâve ever heard of this one comes with rules.â
1.nothing seriously unrealistic/ no impossible fights or deeds
2.no wishing for more wishes, it doesnât work like that
3.no Iâm not going to explain how it does work right now. Letâs just stick with this one wish in particular.
4.something reasonable and maybe happy? Is that too much to ask?
5.no vengeance.
 âSoâŠGo nutsâŠâ the mother giggles. ââŠand when you know what you want to wish for, hold it in your mind. Squeeze it behind your eyes and release it with the wishing seed. If it finds its way to soil and sprouts back up, the moment that seedling sees the sun, your wish will come true.â
 The little girl closes her eyelids and thinks of many things. She settles on one. She pushes the wish behind her eyes, opening them suddenly. Releasing the thought and the seed she gently blows after it to help in its flight. The wishing seed takes off and is gone in a second.
 Mother and daughter with their faces still skyward searching for the wish, hear the landlord pull into the 2 trailer, trailerpark. He pours out of his ancient truck and waddles over to them. He reaches into a pocket and removes a crumple-folded and sweaty piece of paper. Another pocket produces a clicky pen. The young mother signs the filthy paper and he hands her the key. She thanks him and turns to her daughter and says, âAre you ready?â The little girl hops excitedly. She has forgotten about McDonalds altogether. Mother hands her the key. The little girl puts the key in the lock. The mother turns the key under her daughterâs hand and they walk through the door.
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