I fold them out of little strips of paper. Star after star, little hollow things just filled with air. Every piece of paper I find becomes one; newspapers, ads, magazines…but my favorites are the origami paper, in bright colors. My wishing stars.
Sprawled out on the wooden floor, they make a rainbow of wishes, on after another. I cannot bear to coop them up in a jar. They fill me with a sense of hope I have not had in a long time.
Do wishes come true? Even wishes on origami stars?
If you unfold them, one at a time, you would find my loopy script on the narrow strips. Each one saying the same thing, words I have memorized, words I recite in my sleep every night. Words that I wish with all my heart will become reality.
I sit down in the midst of them, gathering them to me. They are all I have left, all I have to hold on to. Everything else has hurt me, left me all alone. Lifted me up and then dropped me down. But I know my stars will not.
Origami stars may not seem like much, but they’re all I’ve got.