Wishing Well

— Janet Bergeron

It had started as a rush. The wishing well. Then it came in waves as she reached out to others. Texts, emails, cards, calls, presents. Used to assuage a broad variety of ills, did they really possess any power? If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. How many times had she wished upon a star into a night sky so deep and vast that her miniscule hope disappeared into nothingness? If wishing well truly could invoke results, how would they come about? She was leaving nothing to chance. These wishes would not be allowed to escape.

For a time, she allowed them to lie scattered throughout her home, perched on furniture, stacked in piles, or cloistered in personal devices. One day, as she lay in her half-sedated, pain-deadened state, her mind drifted to the warmth and dust around her. Not the kind that makes one sneeze, but the dust that lies in unused thoughts, the kind that sparkles tantalizingly in the sun – the motes of potential. She reached out awkwardly as wide as she could to gather the dust in her arms and rolled it towards her chest, repeatedly collecting as much as possible. She tucked the accumulated mass under the cotton blanket that covered her. After resting a bit from the exertion, she took some nearby cards and tapped each in turn onto the bundle, gently shaking loose the caring thoughts. Later that week, she discovered she was able to transmit texts, emails, and electronic photos by enveloping each device within the growing bundle. As she selected desired messages and watched the glistening threads, it struck her that they seemed to cooperate on their own volition as if intuiting what she desired. Calls, she found, slid in with a mere swipe of her phone. Each one captured; each one saved. She felt reassured. In-person conversations were a greater challenge. She could not wave her cloud of wishes above the heads of other people who she felt certain could not perceive the form. Instead, she visually concentrated their good will until it was a manageable size to mentally store away, retrievable for private transfer, when she could rest her head against her expanding treasure.

She kept her secret to herself, snugging her wishes into the bottom bureau drawer normally reserved for gifts for others — a drawer in which no one else would stray. She extracted her bundle whenever it was needed. Some long nights she’d wrap it around herself cushioned in its silkiness, cradled by the wishes. During the day she would distract herself, mesmerized by its glittering amoeba motions as she let it float lazily around the room until it settled by her side. At times when her fears overwhelmed her, she held it close and sobbed her anxiety into the empathic form. Tears crystalized into diamond-like pear shapes as they fell within. Even her falling baby-fine hairs were incorporated, spun into delicate, gold webbing that seemed to add structure, thus lessening their loss. She nourished her companion with newly arrived wishes and always took pains to whisper her appreciation.

Time passed in the comfort and company of her bundle. As the weeks rolled by, though, she gradually began to improve and found that her need was ebbing. Still, so accustomed to the comfort of her treasure, she wanted to cling. However, as her need had diminished, so had the accumulation of well wishes. One morning during the period of lessened narcotics, she noticed a light knocking sound. She ignored it, rolling over, leaving her family to deal with whatever it may be. Later as she continued to heal, though, it occurred more frequently and with increased persistence, until it eventually became a dull pummeling. When she complained of this, her family worried for her well-being since they themselves could detect nothing. Just when she was ready to reach out to her doctor, she noticed that the bottom drawer of her bureau wobbled, ever so slightly, in time to the knocking in her head. As she opened the drawer, her cloud began to squeeze out, seemingly intent on release.

After that day, it still tended to settle near her. Occasionally, though, it would roam rapidly and restlessly throughout the room. She pondered how to placate the discontented wishes – if wishes can be described as such. She noticed that the cloud seemed soothed when her now weary family members entered offering assistance. It often gravitated towards them. Acting on a hunch one morning, she delicately scooped up a portion that peeled away like a cotton candy layer. The cloud did not evade this gentle dismantling. Rather, the separated portion cooperated, drifting towards her family member, opening a gentle rain of sprinkled jewels that glistened down upon them, perhaps lightening their load a bit that day. She, in turn, was struck by the intensity of joy and relief she experienced at the ability to lessen the burden of her loved ones.

Over the next several weeks, she continued to resist the urge to trap and hoard the remaining mass. Instead, in time, she reduced her treasure down to a small, affable ball of gently pulsating, near-dormant luster. It seemed now much like an affectionate, elderly pet, contentedly consenting to this shift in need and dependence as it remained by her side – at least for now. She knew, as one does with beloved pets, that she would eventually need to let go when the time was right. Her treasure of well wishes would, however, eternally remain a close and loving, indelible companion of her heart.

Janet Bergeron is a former librarian and educator. She has been enjoying OLLI classes since retirement, especially improving her Spanish and French, and, most recently, dabbling in creative writing.