Earth Child’s Wish

By Stephanie Diane Pierce

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The sky sat there. Boring. Empty. Gray. No sun. No rain. The earth sat there. Boring. Empty. Gray. No water. No plants. I just sat on the porch of my brand new old farmhouse -- bored as ever can be.

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My dad stood out in the dust and dirt. He held a shovel. But he looked at the sky too. He shook his head. My mom stood out in the dirt and dust. She held a spade. But she was looking at the dust. She bit her lip.

 

I held a coin, a worn, lucky coin that sits in my pocket. I found my luck when we left home, I planned ahead: I brought it with me. Now, I ran out to the road, past the dust, past the dirt, past the sad, dry trees and the sad, dry weeds, up to the gritty road. I closed my eyes, I tossed my luck into the air, to fall wherever it may. So someone else could have some luck too.

 

As it glittered in the air (I must imagine it glittered; my eyes were closed) I made my wish -- for sun -- for rain -- for things that make stuff grow. Like home.

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Then I ran back to our new old house, past the dust, past the dirt, past the sad, dry trees, and the sad, dry weeds, up to the worn old farmhouse. I sat on the porch and looked at the sky.

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I sat.

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I sat.

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I sat.

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And wished with all my might. While I was wishing, I saw something.

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A leaf, a leaf nearby the house.

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On a tree, a tree nearby the house.

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A pretty tree, however sad, that I might have liked well under other circumstances.

 

The leaf, sitting politely and waiting. Watching the sky. Maybe wishing as I was wishing, with all its might, suddenly shifted a little in its spot, shifted and wiggled slightly, as though to get a better view of something. I looked up, where the leaf was looking and saw . . . A Cloud. Blowing in, on the wind, heavy and thick, with rain!?

 

The leaf shivered, and so did I.

 

The cloud shivered, and so did the air.

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A tingle traveled down, through the cloud, like lightning. Then, softly, gentle, a shiver and tingle and thrill made all the air quaver, and waver and BLINK. The sky smelled of wet.

 

My dad looked at the sky.

 

He smiled.

 

My mom looked at the sky.

 

She cheered.

 

I looked at the sky, and wished.

 

And a big, bright, splash of water, ready to burst out of its drop, kissed me on the nose.

 

The sky splashed. It fell. It showered and pelted. It spilled and dripped and dropped and rang with hundreds of millions of tiny, wet bells. It chimed and sprinkled.

 

Leaves rang with silver coats, shimmied in the air.

 

Shiver. Shiver. Shiver. ... ... ...