just thought i'd pop in
a new short story/essay i had to write for english class, hope you guys will read and enjoy it, tell me what you think about it
I didn’t even want it from the start. But I was in a mood and my grandmother was being stubborn, obstinate in getting it for me. Maybe it’s because it was cheap and easy to carry around. I mean, all you had to do was tie it around your wrist and wait for it to come off. Of course there was a wishing part in there somewhere, but my grandmother didn’t really believe in wishes, if that makes any sense. She was more of a prayer woman; she thought the only way to get something you couldn’t get yourself was to pray about it, wishing was for the gentiles. She told me to stop being silly and to let her buy it for me, but I felt guilty. My mom had just yelled at me and my grandmother wasn’t behind my mom in this one. But let’s face it; my grandmother doesn’t get behind most of my mom’s efforts. I wouldn’t even carry it home, Nana just stuck it in her purse and I didn’t see it for the rest of her visit. She always felt bad about taking my room for her occasional visits down south, but I always insisted that I wanted to sleep downstairs, honestly. She had come down to see Austin, give him support I guess. She didn’t even know the kid, not like I knew him.
When we got home from the airport several days later, I saw it sitting on my desk all by itself. It was cheap looking anyway, waxy-ended white threads braided quickly with seven white beads worked into the simple weave. I picked it up warily, remembering the fight my mom and I had, remembering I was still supposed to be mad at her, only I wasn’t, I couldn’t be. She had cried a lot this past week. I had too I guess, right there with her. You tend to get silly with people after you hug them. You either get goofy and keep hugging or you stop really quickly and don’t say anything about it. It tends to be the latter more when you’re crying in the middle of it, which is what we had done twice this week. My mom deserved a child she could hug. So did Austin’s mom, and I kind of felt bad about not being able to assure either parent one.
I didn’t even like it much after Nana bought it; it seemed so plain with the pearly beads that weren’t even symmetrical. Why would you buy something that didn’t have symmetry to it? And plus there wasn’t a clasp, you couldn’t even tie it on your own, or so I thought. It was feather-light in my hand. How do you even make a wish, anyway? Is it like praying when you close your eyes and start with a formal “dear wish listener”? Do you just sort of repeat it over and over while you tie it? Wishing and praying are the same thing, really, except praying has a definite direction. But I lacked all senses of north and south as I wished for the first time, tired of unreciprocated prayers and hazy disappointing answers as I tied it around my wrist with the help of my teeth, whispering around the knotted waxy end of the string “please let Austin get better.”
I didn’t even want it from the start. But I was in a mood and my grandmother was being stubborn, obstinate in getting it for me. Maybe it’s because it was cheap and easy to carry around. I mean, all you had to do was tie it around your wrist and wait for it to come off. Of course there was a wishing part in there somewhere, but my grandmother didn’t really believe in wishes, if that makes any sense. She was more of a prayer woman; she thought the only way to get something you couldn’t get yourself was to pray about it, wishing was for the gentiles. She told me to stop being silly and to let her buy it for me, but I felt guilty. My mom had just yelled at me and my grandmother wasn’t behind my mom in this one. But let’s face it; my grandmother doesn’t get behind most of my mom’s efforts. I wouldn’t even carry it home, Nana just stuck it in her purse and I didn’t see it for the rest of her visit. She always felt bad about taking my room for her occasional visits down south, but I always insisted that I wanted to sleep downstairs, honestly. She had come down to see Austin, give him support I guess. She didn’t even know the kid, not like I knew him.
When we got home from the airport several days later, I saw it sitting on my desk all by itself. It was cheap looking anyway, waxy-ended white threads braided quickly with seven white beads worked into the simple weave. I picked it up warily, remembering the fight my mom and I had, remembering I was still supposed to be mad at her, only I wasn’t, I couldn’t be. She had cried a lot this past week. I had too I guess, right there with her. You tend to get silly with people after you hug them. You either get goofy and keep hugging or you stop really quickly and don’t say anything about it. It tends to be the latter more when you’re crying in the middle of it, which is what we had done twice this week. My mom deserved a child she could hug. So did Austin’s mom, and I kind of felt bad about not being able to assure either parent one.
I didn’t even like it much after Nana bought it; it seemed so plain with the pearly beads that weren’t even symmetrical. Why would you buy something that didn’t have symmetry to it? And plus there wasn’t a clasp, you couldn’t even tie it on your own, or so I thought. It was feather-light in my hand. How do you even make a wish, anyway? Is it like praying when you close your eyes and start with a formal “dear wish listener”? Do you just sort of repeat it over and over while you tie it? Wishing and praying are the same thing, really, except praying has a definite direction. But I lacked all senses of north and south as I wished for the first time, tired of unreciprocated prayers and hazy disappointing answers as I tied it around my wrist with the help of my teeth, whispering around the knotted waxy end of the string “please let Austin get better.”