The Wishing Well by Kaitlin

I like this one. A lot.

The Wishing Well               

                I swear I didn’t mean to do it. All I did was toss a penny into a well and make a wish. How was I supposed to know that it would turn my life upside down? I had everything before—a good job, a pretty nice apartment, real family and friends… and I threw it all away for this. How could I have been so senseless? Well, okay, so maybe I know why I did it. Maybe I didn’t exactly have the greatest situation in the world. Allow me to shine some light.

                It all started in the fifth grade at Silver Gate Elementary School in my hometown of San Diego, California. My then shaggy brown hair and ragged clothes always put me in the eye of ridicule. I guess you could call me the “awkward turtle” of the century because besides being a loser I was also socially disturbed. Every day after rushing home from a painful day of school I would return to an empty home. Plopping myself down in my bed, I would soak my pillow with tears. It was okay that no one was there to see me, and it taught me to really appreciate alone time.

                My mother, the only other one who lived with me in our humble two-bedroom apartment, was a recently divorced single mom who did her best to single-handedly support me—her only child. She was always a very beautiful woman and stood at a respectable 5’8. She had long, curly brown hair which complimented her deep brown eyes. Her face was tired and worn and presented deep worry lines. I always knew she tried her best to provide for me, but the time came when she just couldn’t do it anymore. She often told me she loved me and I knew she did the things she did out of love.

                Every night my mom and I would sing songs together while she cradled me softly in her loving arms. It was a part of our usual nighttime routine to sing, read a story, and play together. Before tucking me in each night my mom would repeat her famous “I love you” line and plant a wet kiss on my forehead. Some of my favorite memories of her were when we would lie down together and sing along to whatever happened to be on the radio that night. I learned to love singing and my mother always told me that I would be a rock star one day.  However, bedtime was the only time I ever saw her. She is gone now, but it’s times like this when I still think of her. I mean if I’m not, then who is?

                Eventually poor little Miranda Hutchings grew up, got away from the bullies, and went to college to be a dental assistant. I decided that I needed to at least try to make something of my life, and I always told myself that it was for her. It was for my mother. Like any other I lived as a poor college student in a one bedroom apartment that was barely big enough to fit a tiny closet filled only with scrubs, a bathroom, and a mini-fridge… and that’s not even counting my rusty old bed that made a horrible screeching noise whenever you laid down on it. However I lived pretty decent considering I only worked part time for a local dentist. Which, I guess, brings me to my job.

                There is one thing I need to get straight: I hate my job. The only reason I ever decided to go into this field was because it was the easiest and fastest degree that paid the most money. But besides well, assisting, I did relatively nothing on the job. The whole thing bored me to death. In fact, the day I almost got fired was the same day that I had made that stupid wish.

                It had been a long day—my boss had come in several times with that sour look on his face that made me want to ask if he’d eaten something unpleasant. Unfortunately, that look didn’t come from indigestion or culinary displeasure. It came with anger and frustration. It came whenever I “messed up.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m a solid employee with a serious work ethic and an undeniable competence in my field. But once in a while, you just can’t please the boss no matter what you do. And this was one of those days.

                “MIRANDA!”

Dr. Anderson stormed over to me and startled me with his loud, booming voice, asking me where I had been for the last twenty minutes when I was scheduled to assist him in pulling the wisdom teeth of a young Parker Lewis. I explained that I had forgotten about the last-minute appointment (which was true) and apologized by assuring my furious boss that it would never happen again. He trudged out of the room while I followed him into his cluttered, messy office. I was scared that my little “incident” would get me fired and so after the young boy’s wisdom teeth were out I decided it would be best for me to leave work early. I was too stressed to work.

I walked over to Heather at the front desk to let her know that I would be leaving early today.

“Oh my goodness… I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Her face showed genuine concern, which was kind of refreshing. Heather was one of my only friends, and she was a good one at that. If I ever needed something, I came to her. It felt good to have someone that I knew I could trust.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little stressed, that’s all.” She wrote into her computer that I had checked out, and on my way out the door I let out a heavy sigh.

As I was finding my way home I walked past my favorite smoothie place: Wishing Well Smoothie & Juice Company. After some hesitation, I talked myself into getting a quick drink. I was a sucker for a good smoothie; they were always refreshing and helped me to feel better. And right now, I needed that.

I sat at a table by a spotless glass window, slurping away at my smoothie. I watched as little kids threw pennies down a wishing well outside the store. It made me smile at how excited they got. It was as if they actually believed their wish would come true. Small children would beg adults for their pennies and would search high and low for a single cent. After acquiring their coin each kid would clutch it in a tight fist, close their eyes, make their wish, and throw the penny into the pit. It was cute how their faces lit up with smiles when they heard it splash at the bottom. That one moment in time would probably end up being the highlight of their day.

I must’ve sat in admiration for hours, and I’ve forgotten what was going through my head at the time. All I can remember is that I wanted to be that happy little child. I wanted to stand in his position and be a kid again. I wanted to throw a penny down that well and make a wish of my own… and so I did. I stood up out of my chair and made a casual beeline to that old wall of bricks. I immediately knew what I would wish for beyond a shadow of a doubt, and it came almost instantly. I tossed an old coin into the well, wishing that I could have someone else’s life.  I wished I grew up talented and in a rich home where I belonged to a large family who loved and supported me. I wished I had gotten everything I’d ever wanted, and finally that my dream of becoming a singer would somehow come true.

I sat with my eyes closed for about 5 minutes when I decided nothing was going to happen. It was a silly thing to do in the first place, and somewhere in the back of my mind I had already known nothing would come true. Yet someplace, hidden in the folds of my imagination, I still hoped that it would. But that’s me, always wishing for something better. Always stuck in the past.

I picked myself up and trudged my way home. Daylight began to drift away from me until finally I found myself in my small creaking bed, in the small blackness of the night, with my small eyes closed, dreaming of my small little world.

                Beep, beep, beep.

                Time for work, I thought to myself as I hit my alarm clock with my fists. I stretched my arms out across my bed with a fatigued yawn, not wanting to get up. But to my utter terror when I reached my arms across my bed I didn’t feel pillows and a wall… I felt a person. I almost screamed before rolling off of my surprisingly quiet bed and on to the floor, where I somehow thought I would be safe. I rubbed my eyes before taking a good long look around the room, only to discover that this was not my room. My first thought was that I was kidnapped, until I looked down and found myself in a gorgeous silk robe and a fancy manicure.

I scanned the room searching for answers. Upon the walls were black-framed images of me and the strange man I saw in my bed. My heart turned ice cold and nearly stopped in my chest when I saw one of the two of us kissing and holding hands. The good news was that I looked beautiful, as did my extremely good looking partner. The bad news was that he was in a tuxedo and I was in a wedding dress.

I kept looking around the room as strange memories begun flashing though my mind. Memories I didn’t even know I had. I suddenly remembered that I worked at a local high school as a choir director, and that I had graduated last year with my Master’s in Piano Performance. I remembered that I was married, and that my husband—Cordell—was a very successful lawyer and District Attorney for the city of San Diego. At first I was scared and felt helpless. I didn’t know what was going on, and I was so confused. But then something struck me that I found very interesting.

I was living my dream life.

I began getting ready for school, immediately deciding that I would go along with it. After all, this was my life now. I entered into a grand walk-in closet (something I had always dreamed of having) filled with the finest of clothes. In fact, to my great joy, there were no scrubs in sight! I dressed myself in a beautiful outfit and paired it with a great little ballet flat.

After I was done with myself, I looked over at my hubby and decided he deserved something lovely too. I walked over to him and put my hand to his sleeping face. He really was a handsome man, and I determined right then that living here might actually be fun. I found my way into a large kitchen just opposite my bedroom wall and began preparing a nice pancake breakfast for my sleeping sweetheart.  

I lived in such a way for about a month. At first it was great living in a big fancy house and having my dream job. It was a pleasure not having to clean up after myself because I could afford maids. I felt exhilarated in the simple joy of having found love, and Cordell was a great guy. But after a while, things started to get boring. I began to realize that maybe this was all staged, and that maybe my “utopia” wasn’t all that it was caught up to be.

I kept living with Cordell, as a high school choir director, and kept talking myself into sticking it out. I convinced myself that maybe it was just a bad attitude that I was having.

But as I kept going through with things, life just slowly became more and more mediocre. I missed the way I actually used to have to work to get things, and how I knew that everything I had I had worked hard to get. None of this was really any better than my old life and all of it was just handed to me because I wished I was married to a rich guy. I didn’t like it… any of it. I found myself not being able to believe my husband when he told me he loved me. Of course he was my fairytale man, but he just didn’t seem real to me. He was just there. It all was, and it was weird. I wanted my old life back.

I took the day off work again and sat in front of the wishing well from sunrise to sunset. I said to myself over and over in my head that I knew I had learned my lesson. I cried to the heavens that I knew I needed to work for what I had and that my life was so much better than I gave it credit for. I wished for my life back a thousand times, explaining in my head that I never really realized how amazing things were until they were gone. Over the course of the day I gathered over 300 pennies and repeatedly threw them into the well, wishing for my life back. I wanted things to be real again. But still, nothing happened.

And so, after night fell around 10:00 pm, I gave up. This was what I got and what I was so fixed on getting. But hey, I got my dream life. I got everything I’d ever wished for and it was all just handed to me. And so I went home to Cordell, who I knew was probably watching his Monday night football right now.

I dreamed nightmares and scary dreams that night. I kicked, and screamed, and cried furiously until I decided it was no use. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep next to him, I couldn’t sleep in this big huge comfortable mattress, and I couldn’t live like this anymore. I woke up in the middle of that night sobbing and wishing I would somehow be able to cry myself back.

But as I sat up furiously with open eyes in my bed that night, I realized where I was. I heard a long, irritating squeal; one that I never thought I would be relieved to hear. I was back in my old screechy bed, in my little old apartment, back with my old life. For the first time in a really long while I realized something very special.

I was home.

And I had learned one of the most important lessons of my life.